


All hot and bothered

by BlushLouise



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Blindfolds, Come Inflation, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Public Sex, Size Difference, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles, Voyeurism, first heat, individual chapter warnings, rut cycles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: One pairing, one scene, one chapter. Who says summer heat doesn't affect gay alien robots?A series of prompt fills for my summer heat prompt bingo. Specific warnings in the beginning of each chapter, if there's something specific (more than just general smut) that needs to be warned for.





	1. Hound/Mirage: voyeur

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is for [Menial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menial/profile), who wanted "voyeur" with Hound and Mirage 😊 Hope you like!

Hound blinked at the sound of running solvent. He'd spent so long trying to rub a stubborn stain off his leg plating, he'd thought he was the only one left in the wash rack. He glanced up, intending to greet whoever was there, and froze.

It was Mirage. And he had apparently not noticed Hound at all.

Mirage stood under the solvent stream, armor flared, optics dim and head leaned back. The solvent flowed over his shoulders and down his chest, over his chest and down those long, long legs. He was gorgeus.

Hound was about to speak up, let Mirage know he was sitting there, when Mirage _moaned_. The sound was long and low and somehow intensely erotic, and Hound's glossa stuck to the roof of his mouth. He could only watch, speechless, as Mirage's hands began wandering.

Dark fingers stroked across the open gaps in Mirage's plating, the armor flaring further to let both solvent and touch in. Mirage's fans started up, audible even under the noise of the dripping solvent, as his fingers vanished in under his chest armor to tease at the delicate sensors there. He moaned again, and Hound swallowed.

He should say something. He really should.

But then there was a quiet click, and Hound found himself staring as Mirage's array panel slid aside.

"Ohh," Mirage breathed, and Hound's spike hit his panel with a thunk that should have been audible to everyone present. Mirage seemed oblivious, though. One hand trailed down his frame, dipping into every curve and accentuating the sleek angles, before circling his spike housing. He spread his legs slightly.

Hound felt horrible. He should get up, he should leave, he should say something - but all he managed to do was sit there and repeatedly shut down his panel commands.

Mirage groaned, and Hound nearly lost the fight with his panel as the spy's spike extended. Between Mirage's legs, Hound could glimpse pale folds and gleaming blue biolights.

"Mmm," Mirage whispered. His optics were still dim, head back under the solvent. His hand encircled the pretty spike slowly, teasing the sensors, and when his other hand dipped down towards his valve Hound's panel rebelled and clicked aside.

He froze, a thousand excuses queueing up in his mind, but Mirage didn't seem to have noticed the faint click. His fingers were pumping in and out of his valve now, the other hand matching the pace on his spike, and Hound's hand wandered to his own spike without his conscious input. Unthinkingly he copied Mirage's rhythm, optics riveted to those dark hands.

Mirage spread his legs further, and Hound could glimpse the swollen anterior node between Mirage's fingers. It glowed enticingly, and Hound licked his lips, far too easily imagining what it would feel like to _taste_. To close his lips around the nub, suck on Mirage's folds, taste the lubricants soaking his valve.

His hand quickened on his spike as Mirage gasped. Those dark hands moved faster, the slick sound of lubricants on questing fingers almost loud enough to drown out the solvent.

Mirage thrust against his own hands, legs spreading further, and keened. Hound gasped as he was treated to the sight of Mirage's dual overload. The gorgeous spike pulsed, shooting transfluid that was immediately washed away by the solvent, and Mirage shuddered around his fingers. Hound couldn't have stopped himself from overloading if his existence had depended on it. He muted his vocalizer as his spike spurted in his hand, transfluid landing in hot stripes over his stomach and legs.

The wash rack was loud with the sound of cooling fans and panting.

After a moment, Mirage's hands fell to his side and his panel clicked shut. He straightened, stepping back fully under the solvent, and soon looked perfectly immaculate again.

Hound tried to close his panel as quietly as possible. His time was up, and now he had to sneak out without Mirage noticing. Good thing he was used to moving quietly.

He'd barely gotten his panel closed when the solvent shut off. A glance up was met by clear blue optics focused on him. Hound gulped. He seemed to have lost his voice somehow.

Slowly, deliberately, Mirage smiled. Then he winked.

"Um," Hound said.

Mirage stepped out of the stall and moved towards the door. Halfway there he paused, turning his head to look at Hound. "Well? Are you coming?"

Hound hastily wiped the last of the transfluid off and stood. That stubborn stain on his leg could wait for another time.


	2. Megatron/Starscream: public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [pipermca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca), who wanted public with Megatron and Starscream!
> 
> This somehow ended up a lot less smutty than I intended 🤔 I've never written these two together before, and I needed their relationship to be consensual and not abusive. So I hope you like!

Starscream's wings were a temptation. Sleek, pretty panes of sensitive metal, twitching and trembling and sometimes moving in a language of their own. Megatron had been staring at them for over an hour and couldn't seem to stop.

At his console, Starscream smirked. The look had Megatron instantly suspicious, and he stood, making his way to where Starscream was standing.

"What are you doing?"

"My job, Lord Megatron," Starscream replied, flicking his wing away from where Megatron's hand had somehow landed on it. "You wanted these plans approved."

"See that they are," Megatron retorted. "Any failure is on you, Starscream." It would be just like the contrary seeker to act up about this.

Starscream's other wing flicked in Megatron's face as the seeker pushed back and walked to another console. "Yes, my Lord."

Those wings. Damn. The sight of them twitching were enough to freeze Megatron in his tracks for a moment.

Starscream couldn't be trusted, though. Megatron followed him, stopping to look over Starscream's shoulder again. "Now what are you doing?" he asked. Behind him someone snickered, and he hurriedly removed his hands from Starscream's wings again.

"Working, my Lord," Starscream replied. He bent at the hips and leaned forward slightly, hands flying over the buttons. "Tell him, Soundwave."

"...affirmative," came his third in command's voice. Megatron ignored it.

"Are you sure?" he murmured into Starscream's audial. The seeker's aft was warm against his panel - slagging seeker, intruding in his personal space - and the leading edges of those wings trembled under his hands.

"Of course," Starscream said, and now he sounded a little breathless. Strange - maybe Hook should take a look at him. Megatron couldn't have his top fighter in poor condition.

"You better not be lying to me," Megatron warned, hips pressing against Starscream's. "I'm watching you."

"I know." Starscream smirked again, and behind them someone laughed. Megatron was half tempted to turn around and shoot whoever it was, but Starscream was moving, walking back towards his original console. Megatron trailed behind, determined to figure out what the seeker was up to.

His hands trailed down those flat panes. Starscream seemed to have lost all concept of personal space now, his frame flush against Megatron's front. "Don't sabotage my plans, Starscream," Megatron rumbled. "I have great faith in them."

"I am not sabotaging anything." Starscream was almost panting now. "Merely adding my own touch to things."

Curse whoever was snickering back there.

"Oh?" Megatron's hands tightened, causing Starscream to gasp. "And will this touch help us succeed?"

There was a clang as someone was slapped, and the vop of displaced air that heralded Skywarp's departure. Soundwave or Thundercracker must have stepped in. Good. Megatron had little patience left.

"Oh, it will show everyone," Starscream purred. He smiled and pushed wet heat back against Megatron's pelvis, sheathing him easily. Someone groaned from one of the other consoles, and Soundwave's monotone shushed them. Which was a good thing, Megatron thought - he would deal with them himself, but he had his hands full at the moment.

"Show them what, exactly?" His hands tightened on Starscream's wings, and he pushed forward into that clenching heat. "That you obey me? That you're mine?"

Starscream laughed as he straightened and leaned back against Megatron"s chest. "The other way around. I'm showing them that you're _mine_. You're mine, Megatron, and this little display of yours proves it."

There was a touch of insolence in Starscream's tone. Megatron would punish him for it, but he suddenly realized his spike was buried in Starscream's valve, right there on the command deck.

Oops.

No wonder Skywarp had been laughing, the slagger.

Megatron would deal with him - and the rest of them - later. He was enjoying himself too much right now. And by the sound of it, as Megatron tightened his hold and picked up the pace, so was Starscream.

Those wings really were delectable.


	3. Rodimus/Megatron: Blindfolded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Blindfolded' with Rodimus/Megatron, for [Perictione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leclairage/pseuds/perictione) :)

“Can you see?”

Rodimus squirmed against the teasing touch to his spoiler. Frag, but it felt good. Megatron’s hands were big enough to trail over both edges at the same time, and it was driving Rodimus insane.

“Rodimus.” Those hands pulled away. “Can you see?”               

Rodimus onlined his optics to total blackness. He was still squirming, _wanting that touch back fraggit_ , and Megatron’s antics were not. helping. “No, of course I can’t fragging see. Now touch me, slagger.”

Megatron chuckled. “So impatient.”

Rodimus gasped in surprise as Megatron picked him up and turned him around to lie on his back, reclining him against the mound of pillows, hands still shackled over his head. His spoiler was rubbed some more before big, strong hands took hold of his legs and spread them. A warm glossa licked up his calf.

“Fragger,” Rodimus growled, his panel sliding aside. “Put your glossa to good use, why don’t you?”

“Oh, but I am,” Megatron murmured. “I can taste the charge in your seams.”

Rodimus could, too. He could feel the sparks jumping from his leg to Megatron’s moist mouth. Megatron almost seemed to _drag_ the charge out, teasing and licking deep from his ankle to his pelvic seams, and Rodimus was about to vibrate right off the berth.

And there was nothing he could do. Oh, he could protest vehemently, demand Megatron out his glossa on Rodimus’ valve this instant, but Megatron was both bigger and stronger and there was no way Rodimus would be able to stop him from doing exactly what he wanted.

Secretly, he reveled in it. No way he would tell Megatron that, though. Damn mench’s ego was big enough. So he kept up his curses and demands until Megatron finally, _finally_ put his mouth where Rodimus wanted it.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he moaned, as Megatron’s glossa began exploring his valve. “That’s it, Megs, c’mon, yesss please please more of that.”

“You taste so sweet,” Megatron murmured, his lips still close enough to tickle Rodimus’ very sensitive valve. “How can someone so sweet spew so much vitriol?”

“Keeps you off-balance,” Rodimus panted, hips moving erratically under Megatron’s mouth.

“Is that so?” Megatron laughed again, a rumbling sensation that did funny things to Rodimus’ insides. “Perhaps I should return the favor.”

Then he was gone.

“Megatron!”

Nothing. The room was silent, barring Rodimus’ own overtaxed systems.

“Megatron, c’mon. Megatron, I swear to Primus – Megs! Fragging – finish what you started!” Rodimus tugged at the restraints, but of course they didn’t give. He squirmed against the berth, every part of him oversensitive, empty valve aching, and still he couldn’t hear or see anything. Megatron might as well have evaporated.

Of course he hadn’t. Logically, Rodimus knew that. But being left like this, bound, blindfolded, it was easy to let his imagination run rampant.

“Megatron! Megs, please, don’t leave me hanging like this!” Rodimus shivered, valve clenching on nothing. “Please! Megatron please, please, I need you – aah!” Rodimus shouted in surprise as a thick finger suddenly pushed into his valve.

“See,” Megatron purred in his audial, “I knew you could be sweet with the right incentive.”

“Yes, fine,” Rodimus whined, taking care not to say anything that would make Megatron pull away again – but not bothering with modulating his tone. Slagger deserved to hear a bit of whining. “I’m sweet as good high-grade, now please – “

“Sweeter, I’d say,” Megatron replied, and the finger in Rodimus’ valve was pulled out. He could hear Megatron sucking on it over the sound of his own desperate fans. “You’re delicious.”

He never saw Megatron’s spike coming. One minute he was shaking on the berth, aching for any touch at all, and the next Megatron’s spike was pushing past the first ring of calipers in his valve. Rodimus couldn’t suppress the shout, or the arch off the berth.

“Good behavior is rewarded,” Megatron rumbled, spike sliding slowly into Rodimus’ valve. He hoisted each of Rodimus’ legs up, cradling them over his arms and pushing up until Rodimus felt like he was bent in half and would be able to put his ankles behind his head if he could just see them. “See, I like this,” Megatron continued. “Now I get access to both your valve and your delicious seams at once.” He licked up Rodimus’ calf again, setting off sparks in Rodimus’ systems.

Rodimus bit his glossa to keep the string of litanies from escaping. He keened instead, all that pleasure needing out somehow, and Megatron chuckled. He set an endlessly slow pace, more grinding than thrusting, and Rodimus felt like he might go insane.

“You’re being very good,” Megatron murmured. “I can see how difficult it is for you.” He leaned forward, weight suddenly resting on Rodimus’ chest. There was a click, and then his hands were free. “Now you can touch,” Megatron whispered. “Touch me, Rodimus. I want your hands on me.”

Well, it was about flaming time. Rodimus reached up and found Megatron’s broad shoulders, squeezing tight and whining at the slow thrusts. He could feel every ridge of Megatron’s spike as it entered his valve.

He pulled himself up to where he thought Megatron’s face was. Megatron groaned, meeting him halfway, and Rodimus nipped at his lower lip. “Now will you frag me properly?” He stretched his legs a bit as Megatron let go to cradle him close, hooking his ankles behind Megatron’s aft for good measure.

Megatron laughed. “So impatient. As you wish, Rodimus. Do you want the blindfold off?”

“Leave it.” Rodimus grinned. “I kind of like the unexpected.”

“Well, then you will like this.” Suddenly Rodimus was lifted, one strong arm under his aft and one around his back, and in the next moment his back hit the wall. He was dangling in front of Megatron’s chest, pinned between his powerful frame and the wall like a puppet, and it was absolutely glorious. “You ready?”

“It’s about damn time.” Rodimus grinned as Megatron thrust into him, one hard, brutal push that bottomed out against Rodimus’ ceiling node. “Bring it, big guy.”

Megatron chuckled. “As you wish, Rodimus.”

Rodimus didn’t suppress the shudder at finally getting what he wanted. For once, maybe he could afford to feed Megatron’s ego. Just a little.


	4. Perceptor/Skyfire: size difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Size difference with Perceptor and Skyfire, for [eerian_sadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow) :)
> 
> Might be a week or so until the next one, I'm off for a weekend break tomorrow.

It had taken them a while to get there. Months of dates, full of sweet kisses and romantic touches that led nowhere. Weeks of slow physical discovery, where mouths and fingers were put to good use and Perceptor got to use his spike for the first time in millennia. And now they were finally here.

Looking at Skyfire’s spike, standing straight and proud from its housing, Perceptor wasn’t sure it had taken long enough. He wasn’t sure if anything would be long enough. At the same time, anticipation coiled low in his stomach.

“You can change your mind,” Skyfire said softly. His optics were locked on Perceptor’s face, absorbing every reaction.

Under that gaze, Perceptor found his resolve again. He smiled up at Skyfire. “No. We will try. I trust you.” The smile he got in return was nothing short of precious.

“We’ll move slow,” Skyfire promised. “I’ll be careful.” He lay back, let Perceptor crawl up and seat himself with one leg on either side of Skyfire’s waist.

“I know,” Perceptor whispered, and lost himself in the slow, gentle motions of Skyfire’s mouth on his.

Skyfire was always careful with him. He never lost control. And Perceptor would like nothing more than to see his lover give in to pleasure completely. It may not be today, but Perceptor had hopes that they were going in the right direction. Skyfire was, after all, more of a spike mech than a valve mech, and Perceptor much preferred using his valve over his spike. It was only logical that they try this.

Even if Skyfire’s spike was nearly the size of Perceptor’s lower arm.

“Any discomfort, any pain, we stop,” Skyfire reiterated. “I’m big enough to harm you, and I’d do anything to avoid that.”

Perceptor leaned in to kiss him again. “If we need to, we stop.”

He didn’t look away, even as he felt Skyfire’s hand move and then the blunt, thick pressure at his valve opening. Skyfire’s optics were captivating, his every emotion raw on his face – awe, lust, affection, nervousness, pleasure. It was addictive.

“Slowly,” Skyfire cautioned as Perceptor at last began pushing back, pressing himself down on Skyfire’s broad spike. “Careful, Percy.”

Perceptor grinned. “Any slower and we’d be going backwards in time.” He gasped, though, as the first ring of calipers in his valve opened completely for Skyfire’s spike. The head pushed inside, spreading him impossibly wide, and Skyfire groaned.

“Primus, that’s tight.”

“Primus, you’re _big_ ,” Perceptor gasped. “I mean, I knew that. I’ve seen you. But visual confirmation really didn’t prepare me for the actual act.” He rocked his hips gently, feeling it when Skyfire slid in another finger’s width. “Goodness, Sky.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

Perceptor glanced at Skyfire’s concerned optics. “Not in the slightest.” As if to prove his words, he slid another few finger’s widths down. And he was suddenly very grateful that they had taken the time to relax him properly. His calipers were giving way with ease.

“You’re so beautiful,” Skyfire murmured. He caressed Perceptor’s cheek, and Perceptor leaned into the touch. “You’re blushing, do you know that?”

“It’s rather a lot,” Perceptor admitted with a small smile. He let himself slide down further, enjoying the borderline painful stretch. Primus, but he felt stuffed full. It was almost a burn, this stretch, but his valve sensors were singing in pleasure. “Touch me?” He tilted his pelvis forward in invitation, inadvertently taking a bit more of Skyfire’s spike.

Skyfire’s fingers were on him in an instant, and Perceptor whimpered as one large digit circled his node. “Please don’t tease. It’s so much already.”

“I’ve got you,” Skyfire promised, and the touch was focused to where Perceptor needed it most. Skyfire let go of Perceptor’s helm to take hold of his spike, thumb rubbing over the head, and with a few deft motions he had Perceptor undone.

With static whitening out his optics he felt himself arch, heard himself whimper, and was thrown into a second, smaller overload as Skyfire’s spike hit his ceiling node.

“Primus, Perceptor,” Skyfire moaned. “You feel so amazing.”

Perceptor panted, vents not enough to cool his overheated frame. A glance down showed him that he’d taken a bit over half the spike. “I’m sorry, Skyfire,” he murmured, a tad embarrassed. “That’s as much of you as I can fit safely.”

“Hey.” Skyfire cradled his cheek again, prompting Perceptor to look up and meet his optics. “Don’t apologize. I never expected you to take the entire length. How do you feel?”

“Stuffed full,” Perceptor admitted. “I can’t understand how I’m not suddenly twice as wide as normal. It feels as though I should be.”

Skyfire chuckled. “Don’t mention that mod to Wheeljack, he’ll make it a reality.”

“Done.” Perceptor grinned. “Perhaps I should talk to Ratchet about a valve extension, though. I would dearly like to take all of you, and for you to not have to be so careful.”

“Don’t change for my sake.” Skyfire took his hand and kissed it. “I adore you just as you are. Are you okay to move?”

“I think so.” Perceptor rocked his hips experimentally, pulling off the thick spike a bit. Instantly, it felt like all his struts and cables had turned to jelly, and he collapsed against Skyfire’s chest in a panting heap, whining as the spike hit his ceiling node again. “Oh, Primus. That’s too much, I can’t –“

“Good much? Bad much?” Skyfire steadied him and made as if to pull out. Perceptor couldn’t have any of that.

“Good much,” he said firmly. “Making me strutless with pleasure much.”

Skyfire laughed, his frame shaking under Perceptor. The vibration teased every sensor in his valve, making him keen again.

“Let me.” Skyfire’s voice and touch were soft, but his arms were pure strength as he sat up and took hold of Perceptor’s hips. “Hold on to my shoulders.”

Perceptor was only too happy to comply. He thought he might black out again when Skyfire lifted him, pulling him almost off the spike and dropping him back down. Carefully, of course, and slowly, slow enough that Perceptor could feel every detail on Skyfire’s spike as it moved in his valve.

It was a good think Skyfire handled all their motion. Perceptor could barely manage to hold on. He felt speared, spread wide, like he would never be able to walk normally again, and it felt glorious. He never wanted to stop riding Skyfire’s spike like this.

His overload was sudden, for all that it was expected, and Perceptor moaned and held on to Skyfire’s shoulders for dear life as his optics blanked out in static and his processor stalled for a moment. The spike in his valve felt twice as big as his calipers spiraled down, and he felt more than heard Skyfire groan in response. A moment later, charged heat washed over his valve nodes and Skyfire fell backwards on the berth, pulling Perceptor down with him.

Perceptor forced his optics to reboot so he could look at Skyfire. His lover was panting, unseeing optics blinking and staring up at the ceiling. There was a familiar blush on his cheeks.

Not quite undone with pleasure, but close. Perceptor considered this a success. Of course, more trials were needed before he could draw any definitive conclusions.

“That was amazing,” Skyfire said, still looking up at the ceiling. “Tell me that was amazing.”

“Beyond,” Perceptor replied honestly. “I would love to do this again.” He smiled and teased a seam in Skyfire’s neck. “How long is your refractory period?”

Skyfire laughed. “A bit longer. Rest here with me for a moment?”

Like Perceptor could move without Skyfire forcibly moving him. “As long as you want.”

Skyfire’s spike twitched in his valve. Perceptor allowed himself a smirk. Looked like he’d get to do this again tonight.

Sated, satisfied and cared for, he cuddled in against Skyfire’s chest and settled in for a nap.


	5. Drift/Ratchet/Rodimus: two spikes, one valve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Steelrunner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelrunner/pseuds/steelrunner), who wanted two spikes, one valve with Ratchet in the middle. Hope you like!

“You ready, Ratchet?” Rodimus’ voice behind him was more a croon than anything else.

“What do you think?” Ratchet shot back, leaning into the teasing touches. Slagging speedsters, always running hot and eager.

In front of him, Drift winked. “I think he looks very ready.” He leaned up and nibbled Ratchet’s sensitive chevron, just hard enough to straddle the border between pleasure and pain. “Aren’t you, Ratchet?”

Ratchet could only groan.

He didn’t know what had possessed these two to choose him to play their game with. But he’d be the first to admit that he hadn’t argued very hard against it. Well. At all, really. And not that anyone would blame him – it had been a whole war since he’d been between two mecha like this, and he was planning on enjoying every moment of it.

They’d made such a good start of it as well. Rodimus was a scorching hot presence at his back, nimble, slim fingers dancing over Ratchet’s sides. Drift was in front of him, sweet and sharp and gorgeous, and Ratchet didn’t have much faith in his own staying power when faced with the both of them.

‘Faced by the both of them. Ha. That was almost worthy of Megatron’s so-called poetry. Or Rodimus’ horrible punning.

“So hot for us already,” Rodimus purred, and Ratchet could tell from just his tone that there would be a familiar slag-eating grin on his face. He refused to dignify the words with an answer, just for that. He had some pride left.

Of course it all evaporated when Drift smiled, that special smile that said that Ratchet was the best thing in this or any other universe and left him all weak in the knees.  He’d willingly blame his old, tired frame from here to the Pit for the way he collapsed forward into Drift’s arms, but deep inside he knew better.

At least he managed to not crush Drift completely. Slagging speedsters and their light-weight armor.

“That’s more like it,” Drift all but moaned, settling underneath Ratchet’s heavy frame and somehow pulling Ratchet even closer. “Wow, you feel so good over me like this.”

Ratchet would have stared at him in incredulity. But he was a little busy appreciating the blazing hot panel that was rubbing against his as Drift arched off the berth.

Rodimus’ slim fingers rubbed along the edge of his panel. “Open for us? This won’t really work, otherwise.”

His panel slid aside embarrassingly fast. Ratchet hid his face against Drift’s shoulder, hoping to conceal the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks.

“Wow.” Rodimus whistled, hands resting on Ratchet’s hips. “They really made you well, didn’t they? That’s one of the prettiest valves I ever saw.”

Drift’s panel opened, and his spike became a hot pressure against Ratchet’s thigh. “That pretty?”

“Really pretty,” Rodimus confirmed. “You should see this, babe.”

Ratchet had the horrible feeling that the captain was taking an image capture of his valve, and made a note to talk to him about it later. When he was more coherent.

“Want to feel it,” Drift replied, almost panting. His hips were twitching in small, erratic thrusts, making his spike slide across Ratchet’s valve mesh. After a moment, he took mercy on Drift – fine, he was as eager for it as Drift seemed to be – and tilted his pelvis, catching the spike head.

The sound Drift made as Ratchet slowly impaled himself was one of the most obscene he’d ever heard.

“Tight?” Rodimus asked. Slick sounds indicated that his panel was open as well. “Does that feel as good as it looks?”

“Tight,” Drift gasped, and Ratchet groaned again. He wasn’t that tight, slaggit. It hadn’t been more than a few decades. A century, at most. Maybe two. Or so. “You’ll have to wait.”

“Slag that,” Rodimus exclaimed. “Turn around, Ratch.”

Ratchet didn’t know how he managed. He knew there was cursing and grumbling involved, mainly at the loss of that sweet, hot spike, but somehow he managed to turn and straddle Drift’s hips, leaning back against his chest.

“I must be crushing you,” he mumbled, still slightly embarrassed. He hadn’t been on display like this in a while either, spike extended and pulsing, node blinking for Rodimus to stare at in what looked like complete rapture.

Drift just chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m more than happy.” As if to prove a point he thrust up, and Ratchet forgot about coherent thought for a while. Especially when Rodimus groaned and leaned forward, taking in all of Ratchet’s spike at once. He could feel it when the head hit the back of Rodimus’ intake.

Rodimus’ optics practically rolled to the back of his head as he moaned around Ratchet’s spike. It was the most erotic thing Ratchet had ever seen. When Rodimus tilted his head slightly, Ratchet could catch glimpses of Drift’s pale spike moving in his valve.

It didn’t take long for him to overload.

“There you go,” Drift gasped, thrusting up into Ratchet’s twitching calipers. “Primus, Ratchet, you feel so amazing.”

“Taste good, too,” Rodimus said with an easy grin. Somehow, the expression wasn’t spoiled at all by the trail of transfluid running from the corner of his mouth to his chin. “What do you think, babe? Think he can fit both of us now?”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Ratchet groaned. He’d meant for it to be a grumble, but… Well. What could you do.

“I think it’ll work,” Drift replied. “How would you prefer this?”

“Hmm.” Rodimus pursed his lips. It made him look unfairly cute. “I want you to see his face as he overloads. He’s slagging gorgeous.”

Ratchet had never been called gorgeous before. On top of Rodimus complimenting his valve and Drift purring in his audial, he felt like he was starting to lose touch with reality.

He turned around, again, this time with a bit more control and independent movement (despite his limbs trembling like mad). Drift tugged at him, pulling him close, and Ratchet let himself be maneuvered to their satisfaction. After all, they’d be the ones spiking.

Damn. Despite his recent overload, he felt his charge skyrocket at the thought of it.

His knees on either side of Drift’s waist, his hands over Drift’s head, he finally let himself sink down.

“There you go,” Rodimus murmured. Gentle hands on Ratchet’s hips guided him back onto Drift’s spike, still hot and hungry against Ratchet’s folds.

Slag, but the speedster was gorgeous underneath him. Drift was panting again, but every now and again biting down on his lower lip. His fangs left soft indentations in the metal that Ratchet ached to kiss. So he did, and having Drift lick into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted did heady things to Ratchet’s self-esteem.

“You two make quite the pretty picture,” Rodimus commented.

“Are you going to watch,” Ratchet growled, tilting his pelvis a bit towards him, “or are you going to join?”

“Oh, I’m going to join.” Rodimus’ tone was sultry. “This time. Maybe next time, I’ll watch Drift have his way with you.”

Next time? Ratchet could still barely process that he was here for this time, even though he was right in the middle of it. For there to be a next time… He couldn’t think about that. Not with the way Drift was moving.

“Ready for me?” Rodimus’ slim finger entered Ratchet’s valve alongside Drift’s spike. Holding still was a trial, especially with Drift trembling underneath him. Ratchet wanted nothing more than to push himself back on the thick combination of spike and finger, but he wanted this to last a bit longer. For all of them.

Another finger joined the first, and Ratchet could feel every tiny motion as his calipers relaxed further to make room. It was exquisite, delicious, all those other words that some mecha liked to throw around, and when Rodimus added a third finger Ratchet couldn’t suppress the keen.

“I think that does it,” Rodimus said breathlessly.

“It better, or I’m doing this without you,” Drift whined. “Primus, Roddy, don’t make me wait any longer.”

Ratchet seconded the feeling. He buried his face against Drift’s neck, groaning as Rodimus thumbed his node distractedly.

“Sure thing. Pull out a bit, Drift.”

Ratchet moaned, a bit embarrassed at the sound but not really caring, as Drift pulled out and Rodimus pressed in alongside him. He felt overly full, stuffed to the limit, calipers straining against the combined girth of both spikes. It was the most maddeningly amazing pleasure he could remember in ages, and yet it was not enough. “Move, slag you,” he demanded, pushing back against them.

And move they did. In counterpoint, Rodimus hitting his ceiling node on every thrust, and Ratchet overloaded again before either of them.

“Got more in you?” Rodimus pressed his scorching hot frame against Ratchet’s back and nibbled at his audial.

“Not done yet,” Ratchet managed, though his fans were struggling now. He’d need some coolant after this.

“Lie down,” Drift said, pulling at him. “Come on, Ratch, I need you, come down, please please please –“

Ratchet could no more say no to that than he could stop venting altogether. He lowered himself against Drift’s chest, taking care even now to keep most of his weight off him – especially since Rodimus was still plastered against his back, adding to the total. He found Drift’s mouth again, swallowing his moans, enjoying those fangs against his own lips.

“Fraaaaaaaag,” Rodimus moaned, thrusting deep. “Primus, Ratchet, you feel so good around me, I can’t even – “ His thrusting grew erratic, Drift matching the pace despite still focusing on Ratchet, and Ratchet pretty much saw stars. For a moment he felt suspended in the air, in nothing, like the only thing connecting him to reality were the two spikes in his valve, and then it all crashed back on him with a double wave of charged transfluid against his nodes.

He had the wherewithal to roll aside, so he wouldn’t flatten Drift completely. Above him Rodimus chuckled breathlessly before collapsing across both of them.

“We need energon,” Ratchet mumbled. “And coolant.”

“Nap first,” Drift insisted. He curled in against Ratchet’s side, letting Rodimus settle again. “Then we’ll get fuel.”

Ratchet couldn’t very well argue. He could barely keep his optics lit, after all. Still, there was one thing. “Next time, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rodimus sighed happily. He was a happy blanket of snuggling plating on top of them. “Next time. If you want.”

Ratchet didn’t reply. But he didn’t really think he’d argue too hard next time either.


	6. Sideswipe/Megatron: oviposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This somehow turned into a full AU on me! I might play more in this sandbox another time, it's very intriguing :D
> 
>  
> 
> For [fuzipenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin), who wanted Sideswipe/Megatron and oviposition.  
> (I loved writing this.)

“Still sure you want this?”

Sideswipe looked down at the grey warlord spread-eagled on the ground in front of him. Megatron was continuously testing the bonds, tugging and pulling, and he snarled up at Sideswipe with prominent fangs. “Get on with it, egg-layer.”

“Hey, you came to us, remember? A bit of cordiality won’t kill you.” Sideswipe grinned. “Besides, I can tighten those bonds. You want that?”

Megatron growled, but the fighting eased. Not that Sideswipe minded the struggles, not really – Megatron was proving that he was a strong, indomitable mech. He would shield Sideswipe’s creations well.

On the edge of his awareness, he could feel Sunstreaker. His twin was stalking along the border of their territory, pretending to be patrolling and determined to stay far enough away that he wouldn’t interrupt. Sideswipe felt a moment of sympathy – Megatron was a great carrier for them, a good catch, but they’d agreed that it was Sideswipe’s turn this time. Sunstreaker could have the next one.

“Besides, you’ll need to wait a little longer,” Sideswipe continued. “They’re still fertilizing.” He grinned down at Megatron’s hips, where the evidence of their recent coupling was still clear on the grey plating. Sideswipe could feel dribbles of Megatron’s transfluid sliding down the inside of his thighs.

“How long?” Megatron demanded, squirming again. His spent spike twitched.

Oho. So that’s how it was.

“Not long,” Sideswipe purred, lowering himself over the grey legs and bending to lick a broad swathe over Megatron’s sticky hips. The taste of their combined fluids was heady and intoxicating. “Open for me?”

Megatron’s valve cover clicked aside, revealing a black and silver valve pulsing with pale biolights. It was very pretty, Sideswipe decided, especially with that bright white node begging to be touched.

“I can make the wait enjoyable for you. If you want.” Sideswipe gazed hungrily down at Megatron’s array. “I bet you taste good.”

“Let loose my legs,” Megatron groaned. “Untie my legs, and you can do as you wish.”

“No harming me,” Sideswipe cautioned, leaning down to untie the strong ropes.

“That would be counterproductive,” Megatron replied, sighing in relief as the bindings fell away.

It really would be. Megatron had come to them specifically, asking for this, so harming Sideswipe would be really stupid at this point. Not to mention, Megatron’s hands were still tied.

“Why did you come to us, anyway?” Sideswipe asked curiously. He crouched down until he was facing Megatron’s valve, and licked at the moist folds. “I bet there are plenty who’d sire sparklings for you. Or carry them, anyway. Don’t you have a mate?”

“A mate would be a weakness,” Megatron managed, panting heavily. “My sparklings will come from my frame only.”

That explained it. Sideswipe rarely claimed hatchlings that came about from this kind of trysts. He usually didn’t even know if the coupling bore fruit. So Megatron was quite right in that regard – these hatchlings would be his, and none others’.

Sure, Sideswipe could have kept track on them if he so wished. It could have been fun to know if any hatchlings of his would be sitting on the throne of Kaon one day. But he didn’t really care, because, as Megatron said, these hatchlings weren’t Sideswipe’s to care for. Besides, with how many clutches he could produce in a vorn, Sideswipe figured it was just as well. Keeping track of all of them – keeping track of any of the carriers, really - would be a full-time endeavor.

Finally, just as Megatron began trembling and making small, aborted thrusts with his hips against Sideswipe’s mouth, the small bar on his HUD reached completion. The small green light, the signal that his eggs had been fully fertilized, was enough to make Sideswipe’s spike pressurize against his panel with an audible thunk. Megatron smirked at him and tilted his pelvis invitingly. “Now can we get on with it?”

“You’re very impatient,” Sideswipe replied, but he slid his panel aside. His spike emerged, hot against Megatron’s thigh. “Do you crave a full gestation tank so badly?”

“Will you leave me hanging, then?” Megatron shot back, somehow pulling away enough that Sideswipe’s spike was left standing into thin air. “I’m sure there are other ovipara out there who’ll be needing to lay about now.”

“Ah, but you’re already here,” Sideswipe crooned, slotting himself between Megatron’s strong thighs. “And I’m already carrying your clutch.”

“Then get. On. With. It.”

Sideswipe grinned. Without looking away from Megatron’s optics, he hilted himself in the inviting valve. Megatron howled, and the volume reached a higher pitch as Sideswipe’s segmented spike head opened and latched onto the closed iris of Megatron’s gestation chamber.

Sideswipe groaned and collapsed over Megatron’s heated frame. It felt so good to be latched onto another again, to feel the tiny sensors inside his sheath being stimulated by the slowly opening iris. All the while his spike was pulsing, raising the charge in Megatron’s sensory clusters, simulating a thrust that was impossible with them locked together like this.

Sideswipe didn’t miss thrusting. This was so much better.

He could feel the moment the iris had spiraled open sufficiently to let the narrow tip of his ovipositor into the tank proper. So could Megatron, by the looks of it – the warlord arched under Sideswipe’s bulk, optics whitening out and vocalizer spitting static as he overloaded around the ovipositor’s sensitive tip. Sideswipe moaned at the feeling, small bursts of sound accompanying the tightening of Megatron’s calipers.

It felt _so good_. And the best part hadn’t even started yet.

The rhythmic clenching of Megatron’s calipers stimulated the ovipositor hidden inside Sideswipe’s spike, triggering the laying process. Sideswipe could feel it as his eggs started dropping downwards, each one sliding past the nodes and sensors in his laying channel until they moved into the ovipositor proper. It was divine, it was magnificent, and he could already tell that Megatron would get a strong, healthy, big clutch out of this.

And that they would both probably be knocked offline by the process.

Sideswipe keened as the first egg transitioned into his ovipositor. The still-clenching calipers triggered his own contractions, pushing the egg forward. The glide was slow and smooth, and Sideswipe overloaded hard as the egg nudged against the gestation tank opening it was just a tad too big for. His ovipositor contracted rhythmically, prolonging his overload as the small sensors of his spike head were triggered over and over and over again before the egg finally slid through the opening and out of him.

Below him, Megatron stiffened. Then he fell offline with a sigh, optics dark and every cable relaxed.

Well. So much for his boasted stamina. Sideswipe smirked down at the slack face. He didn’t mind, really – he was perfectly happy to finish the process himself.

Two more eggs were already inside his ovipositor, and more were moving down the channel. Sideswipe grabbed hold of Megatron’s shoulders, bracing himself against the warlord’s solid frame as another overload racked his body. He lay down on top of Megatron, making himself as comfortable as he could be, and committed himself to pleasure so sharp it was almost agony as his frame took over and one by one, his eggs moved from his own gestation chamber to Megatron’s.

 

When Sideswipe finally came to again, it was to Sunstreaker’s warm, indigo optics. His twin smiled as he ran a cleaning cloth over Sideswipe’s frame. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, you.” Sideswipe reached up and stretched, feeling the satisfying pops of stiff joints and the worn-out exhaustion of a good laying. “How did it go?”

“As it should.” The cloth made an extra circle over Sideswipe’s closed interface cover. “I separated the two of you and took you back home, and when he woke up I sent him on his way.” Sunstreaker leaned down and nuzzled Sideswipe’s helm. “Was it good? It felt good.”

“It was good.” Sideswipe returned the nuzzle. “Next time it’s your turn, okay? And I’ll be the guard.”

“Thanks.” Sunstreaker lay down on his back next to Sideswipe, hands drifting to his slightly distended abdomen. “It’ll be a big clutch.”

Sideswipe put his hand on top of Sunstreaker’s. “Then we’ll find a big carrier. Maybe a shuttle, huh? Or that mech you liked so much that one time?”

“Maybe.” Sunstreaker turned his hand around and interlaced his fingers with Sideswipe’s. “I can’t wait.”

Sideswipe couldn’t, either. But for now he was still exhausted, and Sunstreaker’s warm frame was right there, so Sideswipe did the only logical thing he could think of and cuddled close. He threw one leg over his twin’s and pressed his face against Sunstreaker’s neck. Sunstreaker’s throaty chuckle was more felt than heard, a tingle of vibration over Sideswipe’s cheek, and all was as it should be.

“Recharge some more, bro,” he heard. “We’re safe here.”

The words were a formula. And Sideswipe drifted back to recharge in Sunstreaker’s arms.


	7. Jazz/Starscream: heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll take prompts, I said. Write a short scene, I said. I can do that.  
> Apparently not XD  
> Have 4k words of ficlet!
> 
>  
> 
> For KatDancer, who requested Jazz/Starscream and heat on Twitter :) Specific warnings for this chapter (in addition to the expected smut): mech preg, birth description, sparklings.

Jazz double-checked the bindings. They were secure, of course, he’d tied them himself, but this particular prisoner was wily, and taking chances was a bad way to run an op.

Starscream cursed, straining against the cuffs and chains. “Let me go, you filthy piece of slag, or I’ll destroy you!”

Rather an empty threat, Jazz figured. He grinned. “Now, ain’t any call for that kinda language, sweetspark. Ya know how this dance goes.”

Starscream snarled. Faint clicking told Jazz that he’d attempted firing his thrusters, probably on a hot enough burn that Jazz would be melted to cinders. Too bad for Starscream it didn’t work. Jazz had made sure of that.

His prisoner seemed to realize that as well. He fought with everything he had, exhausting himself against the bonds. It was actually fairly impressive.

Before long, though, Starscream ran out of steam. His helm fell back on the floor, spread-eagled limps slack and trembling. His cooling fans were on high, and still he was panting.

Jazz frowned. That was weird. Starscream of all mecha should have more energy than that. “Ya okay there, Screamer?”

“What do you care?” Starscream spat. “And don’t call me that!”

“Can’t get any information outta you if you overheat on me,” Jazz said, keeping his tone friendly. “Besides, ol’ Megs won’t like it if I break his favorite toy.”

Starscream sneered. His legs twitched, like he was trying to fight but didn’t have the energy to. “Won’t get any information out of me anyway.”

Jazz smirked internally. Starscream didn’t realize how much he was giving away just with his body language. “Really? Tested your firewalls recently, then?”

“Pfft. I work with Soundwave.” Starscream squirmed again, hips jerking against the cave floor. “You’ll get nothing, grounder.”

Jazz’s gaze sharpened behind his visor. Starscream’s fans were still running, but they didn’t seem to be cooling him down at all. If anything, the seeker was running hotter than before.

_Would be just my luck if he’s rigged himself to blow, somehow. Or been rigged, more likely._

He knelt at the seeker’s side, locating the medical port on Starscream’s right arm. Starscream cursed and snarled at him as he pried it open, but that was to be expected. At least there would be less firewalls here than around Starscream’s processor. He shouldn’t have any problems getting access to the systems…

… there.

Most of it was as expected. Starscream was underfueled, which was normal for the ‘Cons, and there were half-healed injuries, which was also normal, and Jazz had a sneaking suspicion that Ratchet would have thrown a fit over the state of his fuel tank. But that couldn’t be what had the seeker overheating. He searched a bit deeper, and came over a new piece of code that was vaguely familiar. Something to do with Starscream’s spark spinning faster, heating up his systems, preparing his gestational tank -

Frag. Frag frag frag frag frag.

Prowl was going to kill him. Slag that, _Ratchet_ was going to kill him. Jazz was in _big_ trouble.

“The frag are ya doin’ all the way out here alone when you’re goin’ into heat?” he exclaimed. It was almost a shout, and he really felt like shouting. Screaming, even. _Slagslagslag._

“Fleeing, of course,” Starscream snarled. His hip movements were more prominent than before, and now Jazz could recognize them for what they were. “And it was going well until you showed up.”

Jazz’s lines ran cold. In one movement, he pulled a knife and held it to Starscream’s throat. “Are there others followin’ ya? Truth, now, or the ailerons’ll be th’ first thing t’ go.”

“No one’s following me,” Starscream spat, defiant even though he was watching the blade warily. “If you must know, Soundwave ran interference so I could get away unseen.”

Jazz leaned back on his heels, thinking for a moment. He didn’t much like being saddled with a heat-ridden seeker, and judging from the state of Starscream’s systems it wouldn’t be long before he lost control of himself completely.

Easy, then. “Fair ‘nough. I’ll just drop ya somewhere close to the ‘Con base for Megs t’ find.”

“What? No!” Starscream’s gaze snapped to Jazz’s visor. “You can’t do that! They’ll tear me to pieces!”

Jazz made himself chuckle. “What, ya so starved for ‘facing down there that a mech in heat is fought over?”

“You have no idea,” Starscream said darkly. “I was on my way to a hideout we – I keep for these instances. Now I won’t get there in time.”

Jazz shrugged, still acting nonchalant. “Not my problem.”

“Oh, so your problem, grounder,” Starscream bit out. “Or are you going to leave me here to die? Can your Autobot conscience manage that?”

That couldn’t be true, but just in case, Jazz searched his processors. Heats were rare, less among air frames than others, but usually mecha weathered them just fine. There was always plenty of time to prepare, to fuel up and choose a partner, and though it was exhausting, most mecha came out of one with nothing more serious than a hefty dose of exhaustion and a sore array, and a pampering sire to care for carrier and the newspark on the way.

Most mecha came out of heats okay. But he was slowly realizing that Starscream wouldn’t. Starscream, who was already underfueled and in poor shape, who had no partner on hand because he’d fled, and who’d prepared a safe space to be but hadn’t gotten there in time.

Slag it all to the Pit. Ratchet really was going to kill him. And Starscream, unfortunately, was correct. Jazz couldn’t leave him now, or even let him loose. This was very much Jazz’s problem as well now.

“You’re right,” Jazz said softly. “But trust me on this, Starscream. I ain’t gonna let that heat kill ya.”

“Oh, trust you?” Starscream replied sarcastically. “Is that all? Of course, and why don’t we invent synthetic energon while we’re at it? Rejuvenate Cybertron? Oh, I know! Bring back Nova Prime! That should make things interesting.”

“Starscream.” Jazz put a hand on the seeker’s knee, more to steady and comfort than anything else. “What d’ya need?”

Starscream watched him for a moment. Then he sighed in clear resignation. “Energon. And coolant.”

“Done. Wait here.” Jazz chuckled at Starscream’s furious look. “Oh, cool your thrusters. I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d used this cave. It was cleverly concealed, with a narrow opening and a wide interior, and a second, hidden room in the back that was perfect for hiding supplies.

The necessary fuel in hand, he went back to Starscream. The seeker was still panting hard, and now he was full-on squirming. There was a tang of lubricant in the air. Jazz activated his vent filters, trying to keep most of the airborne pheromones out of his systems. He couldn’t leave Starscream alone, but he wasn’t going to let himself get so out of control that he’d rape him either. Even though Starscream would beg for it in the end.

Maybe it’d be best to get that particular matter settled right now.

“Here.” He knelt at Starscream’s side again, holding out a cube of energon. “If I untie your arm, will ya attack me?”

Wordlessly Starscream shook his head. He was trembling now, Jazz saw, and his optics were blown wide. This close, it was impossible to ignore the scent he was putting out, and Jazz found himself leaning unconsciously closer as he triggered the cuff to open.

As soon as Starscream’s arm was free, he leaned up and reached for the cube. He managed to get himself up to where he was leaning on one elbow, so the spillage was minimal. Jazz was grateful for that. He was tempted enough to lick the seeker’s cockpit as it was.

Speaking of…

“Starscream. I need t’ know. Do ya want assistance in yer heat?”

Starscream looked at him blankly. “What?”

Jazz reset his vocalizer. It felt staticky, suddenly. “Do ya want me to… t’ help ya?”

Starscream stared in clear shock for a moment before recovering and hiding behind a sneer. “How desperate do you think I am?”

Jazz shrugged. “Just offerin’ ya the option.”

“Well, I don’t want it.” Still, Starscream’s optics ran down Jazz’s frame. He couldn’t resist sitting a little straighter, angling himself to show off his curves and angles. “I don’t want anybody.”

“Then I won’t force you,” Jazz replied. “I’ll be in th’ other room, ‘kay? And I’ll bring ya coolant an’ fuel at regular intervals.” He stood, leaving the seeker’s arm uncuffed. Primus knew Starscream would probably need it once the desperation set in.

He’d gotten halfway to the back of the cave when Starscream cried out.

“Wait! Stop!”

Jazz turned back, taking care to keep his face neutral. “What?”

“I… changed my mind.” Starscream bit his lip. “Stay. You can… You can help me.”

Jazz frowned. That was rather a sudden change of mind. “Are ya sure?”

Starscream hesitated, then nodded. “My heats… they get bad. And I don’t have any of my tools. Or toys.”

“Fair ‘nough.” Jazz nodded. “Let me get us some more fuel, ‘kay? Then I’ll come back.”

He gathered up everything in a hurry, adding extra coolant and a first aid kit for good measure. It had been a while since he’d helped someone through a heat, even longer since he’d had one of his own, but he remembered it could be rough. Plus, Starscream already had some abrasions and minor injuries that Jazz could treat before they got too far in, to let Starscream’s self-repair focus on his soon-to-be sore valve.

The heat was progressing fast, he saw as he came back. Starscream was whimpering, one hand closed into a fist and the other inching towards an array panel that was almost glowing with heat. So much for treating injuries, or even getting more fuel in him – it was all Jazz could do to drop the supplies near his berth pad before he all but ran back to Starscream’s side. “Hey, shh,” he crooned, leaning down to nuzzle Starscream’s helm vent. “Easy there. I got ya.”

Starscream just whined, back arching slightly. Jazz was honestly surprised the seeker’s panel was still closed. He located the same port as before to connect to Starscream’s systems, and the ready heat coding near overwhelmed his processor. If it hadn’t been for the medical port buffering the contact, he’d have been swamped.

“Shh,” he murmured again, buying himself time to find his bearings. His hands were shaking as he disconnected. “I’m going to let you loose, okay? And get us somewhere more comfortable.” Starscream wouldn’t try to escape or even attack him now, not this far into the heat. And considering Jazz’s own state, he’d better get this done sooner rather than later. Starscream was sending out enough pheromones to floor an unprepared mech, and it would only get worse.

He managed to get the cuffs off, then pulled the seeker to shaky but thankfully still functional legs. Starscream was bigger than him by just enough to cause problems if he collapsed, so Jazz hurried them along as much as he could. At least he’d had the sense to lay out his berth pad in the other end of the cave, rather than outside.

Starscream’s panel finally clicked aside as Jazz laid him down. “Please,” he keened, pelvis tilted to show off a leaking, gorgeous valve. “Please, I need – I need –“

“I know what ya need,” Jazz said softly, freeing his own spike to jut into the cool air. “Easy, Starscream. I got ya.” He went to his knees between the seeker’s spread legs and sank into that tight heat.

It was bliss and perfection and everything his heat-addled processors thought it should be. Starscream’s normally grating voice was almost pleasant as he keened, the breathless moans matching his timbre, and as Jazz grabbed his thighs and pulled him almost into his own lap Starscream stiffened in overload.

“You’re so slaggin’ hot,” Jazz panted, thrusting into the clenching valve. “Gonna fill ya so full, gonna make ya so happy, just wait an’ see.” Vaguely, he knew that his words weren’t completely his own, but he was too deep into it to care. “Ya look so good overloadin’, Star, so fraggin’ good, gonna make ya overload so many times until ya can’t anymore. Gonna fill ya up ‘til the transfluid’s drippin’ from that pretty valve o’ yours.”

Beneath him, in his arms, Starscream cried out loudly at each thrust. His legs were thrown around Jazz’s hips, pulling him closer, and Jazz didn’t hesitate to obey. Starscream’s valve almost pulled him in, calipers clenching erratically around him, and Jazz overloaded with a groan. It almost felt as if Starscream’s greedy valve sucked the transfluid right out of him. He slumped over the seeker’s over-warm frame, spike still hard and pulsing.

“More,” Starscream whined. “I need more, please, so good, please, please!”

Jazz managed to grab a cube of energon and opening it without spilling too much. He drank half, then filled his mouth with energon and slotted his lips to Starscream’s. It took the seeker a moment to catch on, but when he did he drank greedily.

“Need t’ keep your strength up,” Jazz mumbled when his mouth was empty again. “For those pretty sparklings.”

Starscream keened, arching against Jazz, his optics blown wide as he overloaded around Jazz’s still spike. It was almost enough to drag Jazz over again instantly. He managed a few thrusts, and then his control broke.

It was a good thing he’d brought several cubes. They would be here a while.

 

Later, much later, Jazz woke in a sated pile of sticky plating. He was tired and sore and low on fuel, and parts of him stuck to other parts, and his spike was apparently still buried in Starscream’s valve. But the heat seemed to be over.

Starscream was out like a light, venting easily and quietly. His plating was cooler to the touch and covered in scrapes and paint transfers, especially on the usual places like hips and legs and around the golden cockpit.

Which seemed to have cracked down the middle. In two perfect, even halves.

Frag. Oh, frag it all to the Pit. They were _all_ going to kill him.

“Starscream,” he managed, voice cracked and strained. “Hey, Starbaby, wake up.”

He didn’t know where the nickname came from. But he had a definite feeling – and vague memories to back it up - that it wasn’t the first time he’d used it since this heat started.

“Mmmh?” Starscream murmured, optics flickering, and slagitall, but that shouldn’t be as adorable as it was.

“Wake up,” Jazz repeated. He nuzzled a dark cheek with something close to affection. “I think we merged.”

Starscream sat bolt upright so fast that Jazz near got a helm to the face. He scrambled backward, coming to a stop straddling the seeker’s knees.

Starscream looked down at his cockpit, a look of sheer horror on his face. “Oh, no. Oh, frag no.”

Slowly Jazz reached toward the golden surface. “Can I see?”

Wordlessly, Starscream met his optics and let his cockpit split apart the rest of the way. Jazz leaned closer as Starscream’s spark came into view. Around it zoomed two small specks of light.

“Two,” Jazz whispered, partly in awe and partly in horror. “Primus, Ratchet really will kill me.”

“That means at least one is a grounder spark.” Starscream’s voice was shaky. “Maybe both, but that’s less likely. Seeker sparks are always either just one or a full trine.” His optics sharpened as he suddenly got a better grip on himself. “And if you think you’re slagged, try imagining going back to the Slagmaker himself carrying Autobot sparks.”

Jazz pulled his hand back. For a moment he wavered on what to do with it, before placing it gently on Starscream’s leg. “What are you goin’ t’ do?”

“I’m apparently going to have a sparkling,” Starscream replied. One blue hand rose to trace the edge of his spark chamber.

“Just one?” Something in Jazz blanched at the idea of terminating a healthy sparkling – his sparkling, nonetheless. “Can ya even remove one and not the other?”

“I won’t remove it.” Starscream’s voice was firm. “He’s mine. I’ll keep it under wraps, and come back here for the emergence. We’ll take it from there.” Garnet optics met Jazz’s. “Can I trust you in this?”

Jazz nodded. He didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll be here. I’ll keep ya safe.”

Starscream smiled and leaned forward, pressing a quick, soft kiss to Jazz’s lips. “Good. I’ll comm you with the details.” He settled back, still gazing down into his open cockpit, and Jazz couldn’t resist. He crawled up Starscream’s frame, leaning up against his side, and did the same.

There would be time enough later for everything else that needed deciding.

 

Towards the middle of summer, Jazz was back at the cave, this time with a grumbling Ratchet and a nervous First Aid in tow. The medics were both inside the cave, setting up what had looked to be half of medbay, and Jazz was waiting just outside.

There. Three specks, flying noticeably slower than usual but still coming closer fast. Jazz tried to keep calm as they came towards him, flying lower and transforming to land in front of the cave.

Starscream looked the same as before, offering Jazz a slight smirk. Thundercracker and Skywarp, on either side, looked wary and defensive.

Jazz grinned and nodded towards the cave. “Come on in.”

He led the way, concealing the surprise at how much Ratchet and First Aid had managed to make ready. The cave was transformed, a chaos of bright light and sterile equipment. Behind him, Starscream let out a startled laugh.

Skywarp snickered. “What’s all this?”

“This is called being prepared,” Ratchet groused. “Delivering sparklings in the wild is not my favorite form of risk.”

“We don’t need any of that,” Starscream said, dismissing the medic’s sputters. “You can be on hand for the emergence, and I want you to check the sparklings after, but we don’t need a medbay. Seekers are made for easy emergences.” He nodded at Thundercracker, and the blue seeker walked up to the one wall Ratchet hadn’t commandeered. There, he began pulling what looked like soft throws and pillows from his subspace. Skywarp joined him, and soon there was a sizeable nest there.

Starscream eased down into it, reclining against the wall gratefully. Ratchet hovered over him until the seeker held up his arm, letting Ratchet connect without deigning to look at him. Instead, he looked at Jazz. “Come here. These are ours, but at least one of them is yours.”

Jazz wasn’t slow to obey. He curled up next to Starscream, watching the barely-there split in his cockpit as it widened gradually. Skywarp sat down across from him, and Thundercracker pushed Starscream forward slightly and settled behind his back with one leg on either side.

“It won’t be long,” Starscream said softly.

It wasn’t. Jazz watched, enraptured, as Starscream’s cockpit split completely and the two halves slid aside. There was the clicking of tiny transformations in the seeker’s abdomen, and then the gestational tank was visible and spiraling open as well.

“Catch him,” Starscream instructed, glancing at Skywarp. The purple seeker nodded and held out his hands as a glistening silver pod slid slowly from Starscream’s chest. Skywarp was whistling and clicking at it, cradling it in both hands, and First Aid tentatively began rubbing the pod with a soft cloth.

“Now you,” Starscream told Jazz, who eagerly held his hands forward. He watched with rapid interest as the second pod slid forward, slipping easily past Starscream’s cockpit edges and into Jazz’s hands. It was warm and slick to the touch.

Starscream leaned back against Thundercracker as Jazz cooed to the tiny pod. The seeker suffered Ratchet’s fussing over him in silence for a few moments before waving him off. “See, I’m fine. No problems at all. How are the sparklings?”

“I think this one’s opening,” Skywarp said eagerly. First Aid seemed to have forgotten that he was next to a big bad Decepticon – the junior medic was leaning forward eagerly, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening in Skywarp’s hands. Jazz glanced from the pod he was holding to the one Skywarp had. It was hard to know where to look at any given time. He didn’t want to miss any of it. They were both Jazz’s sparklings, even if he only got to keep one of them.

With a small crack, the pod in Skywarp’s hands fell open. Jazz cradled his own pod against his chest and leaned forward until his face almost touched Skywarp’s fingers.

The sparkling was tiny and soft and grey, all rounded and pudgy, and Jazz adored it instantly. It was also, unmistakably, a grounder.

“I think this one’s yours,” Skywarp snickered. “What are you gonna call him?”

Gently, Jazz reached out and touched the tiny helm. His sparkling. “Frequency. His name’s Frequency.”

“If the other one’s a grounder as well, we have to leave them both here,” Thundercracker said quietly.

Starscream sighed. “I know.”

As if on cue, the pod Jazz cradled against his chest began cracking as well. He lowered his hands almost into Starscream’s lap, surreptitiously watching the three seekers. All three pairs of optics were locked on the pod in his hands.

The segmented shell fell apart, and a tiny grey being unfurled in front of them. One with prominent wing nubs on its back.

“Oh, thank Primus,” Starscream breathed. “I really wanted to keep one.”

Skywarp winked at Jazz. “Trade?”

Carefully, Jazz handed the seeker sparkling to Skywarp. In return, he got Frequency.

He was already lost to those tiny optics.

“What’s the other one’s designation?” he wondered, still staring enraptured at his sparkling.

“Scatterpulse,” Starscream murmured, cockpit finally closing up. He was still resting back against his trinemate, optics glued to his sparkling.

“Sounds sufficiently Decepticon.” Jazz grinned. “And there’s a bit o’ me in there. I like that.”

“Will you let me check him over?” Ratchet asked. Like all of them, he kept his tone low and soft. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Reluctantly, Jazz handed Frequency over. He trusted Ratchet, he really did, but that was his sparkling. And he’d never had one of those before, so he was allowed to be a bit overprotective.

On impulse, to distract himself, he leaned forward and gave Starscream a quick peck on the lips. Thundercracker growled and Skywarp squeaked, but Starscream just smirked. “What was that for?”

“For givin’ us both of them.” Jazz looked down at Scatterpulse, who seemed to be recharging in Skywarp’s hands. The purple seeker was cradling him against his cockpit, rocking gently. “They’re perfect, Star. Ya did well.”

Starscream preened. “Of course I did.”

Ratchet came back, and Jazz reached for his sparkling eagerly. “He’s in perfect health. Congratulations, Jazz.” Ratchet glanced at the trio of seekers. “Do you want me to check Scatterpulse as well?”

“Please.” Starscream nodded. “As soon as you’ve done that, we’ll be leaving. Our presence will already be missed.”

Ratchet shook his head, already running his fingers over Scatterpulse’s tiny body. “Not before I get a couple of energon cubes into you. And I’d like to check you over too. Unless you want to bring any possible post-emergence complications to that hack job you call a medic.”

Starscream sighed and split his cockpit open again. “Fine. But after that, we’re leaving.”

Jazz leaned into Starscream’s side, holding Frequency out so they could see him. There was a strange sort of peace over everyone, and Jazz was soaking it up. For all that the three seekers were enemies, it felt like family, sitting there.

Well. They were Decepticons. He had a hard time thinking of them as enemies anymore.

Before long, way before Jazz was ready, Starscream closed his cockpit and began rising. Jazz scrambled to his pedes as well, and suddenly they were all standing and looking somewhat hesitantly at each other.

He looked at the small, grey bundle cradled in Skywarp’s hands. “Can I… say goodbye?” The sudden realization that the seekers would be leaving and taking his son with him damn near tore his spark apart. By the way Starscream suddenly whimpered and reached for Frequency, he was feeling the same way.

Skywarp handed him Scatterpulse as carefully as if the sparkling was made of glass, and Jazz lifted him up to nuzzle the tiny frame. “Bye, ‘Pulse. I love ya more than anythin’, okay?” He dimmed his optics, tried to suppress the tears, but a few escaped anyway. Someone rubbed his back. “Be good for your carrier, sweetspark. I’ll be rootin’ for ya.”

He didn’t want to hand his sparkling back. But he had to. Starscream didn’t want to give up Frequency either, and in the end the only thing that made either of them loosen the hold on the sparkling they were holding was Ratchet and First Aid reaching in and gently switching the sparklings around.

Starscream didn’t hesitate after that. He hurried out of the cave with Scatterpulse in his cockpit, and then the seekers were all in the air.

For a moment, Jazz stood and watched after them as they carried a piece of his spark away with them. Then he cradled Frequency close and went back inside to wait as Ratchet and First Aid packed up the medbay.

One day soon, maybe he could offer something better than this. To both his sparklings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: This thing grew on me, and has been given a fic of its own. Follow Frequency and Scatterpulse in [The pebble and the landslide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732582/chapters/46702168)!


	8. Jazz/Soundwave: fragging for peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [TheAwkwardEnthusiast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardEnthusiast/pseuds/TheAwkwardEnthusiast), who wanted Jazz/Soundwave and fragging for peace :) Hope you like!

Jazz paced across the spacious quarters he’d been given. He wasn’t anxious, not as such, but… under the circumstances, a mech would have to be insane to not show a little bit of nerves.

He wondered who Galvatron would be bringing. The Decepticon leader was insane, but he needed the peace as much as Rodimus did, so he wouldn’t bring someone who didn’t meet the Prime’s criteria. Well, he probably wouldn’t. Cyclonus would probably rein him in. Probably.

He wondered if Blurr and Perceptor were as on edge as him. He couldn’t do much to check on them beyond sending them a ping, so he did. The return pings were almost immediate. They likely needed the reassurance as much as he did.

It was both too soon and not long enough before there was a knock on the door. It opened to reveal the Prime himself, looking annoyed and apologetic at once. Ultra Magnus was a stoic presence behind him, as always.

“Jazz,” Rodimus greeted. “They’re here.”

Jazz nodded, as controlled as he was able. “Let ‘em in, then.”

Galvatron walked in like he owned the room. The Decepticon leader was just as big, just as intimidating, just as insane as usual. There was a mad smile on his face. “Ah, there you are. And here you go.” He stepped aside, giving Jazz an unimpeded view of the doorway.

Soundwave stepped into the room. He moved hesitantly, like he didn’t want to be there. Jazz didn’t blame him – he didn’t want to be here either.

“Come _on_ ,” Galvatron snarled, suddenly impatient. He grabbed Soundwave’s arm and all but shoved him at Jazz. “Do your duty as a Decepticon.” Giving Jazz a wink, he turned and headed towards the hallway again. “I hope he pleases you. Sometimes I think that’s all he’s good for.”

The door closed behind him.

Soundwave pulled away from Jazz and took a step back. He still looked uncomfortable, as much as a mech with his face covered could.

Jazz sighed and sat down on the only available seat – the berth. “Hey, Soundwave. Pit of a situation, huh?”

Soundwave inclined his head in a tiny nod. “Affirmative.”

“Come, sit here.” Jazz patted the berth surface. “I’m gettin’ a crick in my neck just lookin’ at ya.”

Soundwave hesitated before coming closer. He moved stiffly, warily, and Jazz was reminded of nothing more than a scared beast who was one move away from fleeing. But at least Soundwave was sitting down.

“Something gives me the feelin’ that you don’t want t’ be here. Am I right?”

“Jazz: very insightful.”

Jazz chuckled. At least the bigger mech hadn’t changed. “Yeah, well, guess we’ve got t’ work with what we’re given. At least we chose t’ be here, right? And we’ll be left alone until mornin’, or as long as we want, really, so there’s that. Don’t know ‘bout you, but I’d be willin’ to consider this a holiday of sorts.” He kept watching Soundwave out of the corner of his optic.

“Galvatron: impatient.” Soundwave tilted his head slightly. I looked like he was looking down at his hands. Or maybe even his dock, with the Decepticon symbol on it. “Results expected.”

“Do ya have any cassettes with ya?” Jazz asked curiously. It would be both surprising and not – surprising that Soundwave would willingly interface with them in there, but unsurprising because Soundwave tended to bring his little family everywhere with him. Just like Blaster had used to, once.

“Negative. Cassettes: kept with Combaticons. Galvatron: desired security for good behavior.”

“Security?” Jazz frowned. “But ya volunteered t’ be here. Why would Galvatron have the Combaticons keep ‘em hostage?” And hostage was the right word, Jazz was fairly sure.

Soundwave didn’t say anything, though. He twisted his fingers together, still looking down at his hands.

“Soundwave?” Jazz asked, knowing he probably wouldn’t like the answer. “Ya did volunteer, didn’t ya? That was one o’ the Prime’s criteria.” Only willing mecha, Rodimus had said, mecha that would be okay with interfacing with the enemy, that could handle it and maybe even befriend the Autobots who’d volunteered. No one had been forced to be here.

“Soundwave: was given a choice,” the other mech answered finally. “Volunteering, or losing a cassette.”

Jazz stared. That wasn’t a choice, not in any shape or form. Soundwave had pretty much been coerced to be here. No wonder he looked so hesitant.

He opened a channel to Rodimus Prime. ::Roddy. This ain’t a willin’ Decepticon.::

::Blurr and Perceptor are saying the same thing,:: Rodimus replied, clear anger in his voice. ::Blurr says the Reflector gestalt isn’t even complete – one of them is being held prisoner somewhere. And Scrapper’s willing enough to be here, Perceptor said, but he didn’t choose to be.::

::So what do we do?::

::I’m going to have words with Cyclonus, but I doubt it’ll make much difference. Unless Soundwave really isn’t willing, I’m going to ask you to try to complete the deal. Don’t push him into anything. That’s not how we do things. But a lot depends on this peace agreement.::

::I’ll talk to him,:: Jazz said after a moment. ::We’ll see what happens.::

::Good luck, Jazz.:: Rodimus cut the connection.

Jazz turned to his unwilling berthmate. “Soundwave, if ya don’t want to do this, we don’t have t’ do it.”

Soundwave was shaking his head before Jazz had even finished speaking. “Negative. Soundwave: must obey. Laserbeak on the line.”

“Rodimus is talking to Galvatron. He may find a solution yet.”

Soundwave shifted on the berth, until he was facing Jazz. His mask opened and slid aside, revealing pale faceplates and soft lips caught between worrying denta. “Jazz. Please.”

“All right,” Jazz said soothingly. It was clear that Soundwave didn’t want to do this, but he was also clearly terrified of the consequences should he back out. And there was nothing Jazz could do about that. “All right, my mech. I’ll take care of ya.”

Soundwave nodded. His lips quirked into a tiny smile. “Soundwave: grateful that it is Jazz. Jazz: familiar.”

Jazz had to chuckle. “Yeah, we’ve known of each other for rather a while, haven’t we, mech? Ain’t got count of all the times I tried to sneak past ya. Or the little guys.”

The smile grew. “Jazz: accomplished. But cassettes: clever.”

“That they are,” Jazz agreed. He really couldn’t wait to have them on his side, even just for the time it would take to defeat the Quintessons. He looked up at Soundwave. “So… How d’ya want t’ do this?”

Instead of replying, Soundwave moved up on the berth. He lay down, head and shoulders supported by the pillows, and spread his legs slightly.

“All right,” Jazz said again, his tone soft. “I can do that.”

He shifted fully onto the berth and crawled up, slotting himself between Soundwave’s legs. This close, he could feel the faint trembling of the other’s frame. Something told him it wasn’t arousal.

“I’ll take good care o’ ya,” he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle Soundwave’s jawline. “No pain. No fear. No outside world, either. Just you an’ me an’ this room.” The nuzzling turned to small kisses and nips as Jazz moved down to Soundwave’s throat. “I’m gonna tell ya that you’re beautiful, an’ make ya feel good, and there’ll be no pressure. I’ll stop whenever ya want, do more of whatever ya want. Okay?” He exvented over Soundwave’s dock, fogging up the glass, and Soundwave shuddered.

“Aff – affirmative,” he whispered. “Jazz: trusted.”

And wasn’t that a heady thing. Having Soundwave underneath him like this, placing his trust in Jazz’s hands… It was enough to make his spark spin faster.

“Ya can touch me,” he said, trying to reassure the other mech further. Soundwave wasn’t relaxing, he was stiff and nervous, and Jazz wanted nothing more than to make him melt.

So he disconnected his visor, placing it carefully on the small nightstand. Soundwave’s vents hitched when Jazz turned toward him again, bleached blue optics fully visible for the first time in vorn.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Jazz said softly, raising a hand to cup Soundwave’s cheek and run his thumb over those soft lips. “Even without my visor, I can see that.”

Hesitantly, slowly, Soundwave’s hand came up to touch Jazz’s face. “Jazz… blind?”

“Not all blind,” Jazz admitted, seriously hoping this wouldn’t come back to bite him. “But my optics don’t work right. Never did.” He tapped Soundwave’s visor. “Yours?”

To his surprise the red visor disconnected into his hand. Soundwave’s golden optics gazed up at him. “Jazz: trusted.”

Apparently.

He placed Soundwave’s visor next to his own, then lowered his face toward Soundwave. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Soundwave breathed, and their lips were meeting. Jazz couldn’t suppress a moan as Soundwave expertly licked into his mouth, arms finally coming up to pull him closer. Jazz let him, enjoying the heat that was finally emitting from Soundwave’s frame. His hands wandered over that tempting dock, the dark sides, those strong shoulders, pressing his hips against that steadily heating dark panel at the apex of Soundwave’s legs.

“Holy frag, mech, but ya can kiss,” Jazz gasped when they finally pulled apart. “I’d be willin’ t’ do that any time of any day.”

Soundwave smiled up at him. “Soundwave: agreeable.”

“Oh, really?” Jazz grinned and moved his hips a little more insistently. “Care to take this t’ the next level, then?”

Soundwave’s hand slid to the back of his neck, tugging him closer. He mouthed at one of Jazz’s sensor horns, leaving Jazz strutless on top of him. “Progress: acceptable,” Soundwave hummed, and Jazz let out an embarrassing little squeak at the stimulation. “Suggestion: your spike, my valve?”

“Oh, talk dirty t’ me, mech,” Jazz groaned, tilting his head even more into the reach of Soundwave’s very talented mouth. “I could listen t’ that voice all day.”

Soundwave’s panel slid aside. Jazz managed a peek down – without dislodging his sensor horn from Soundwave’s mouth, that was important and _ohsogoodhecouldhardlyvent_ – at Soundwave’s spike as it pressurized. It was average, moderately thick and proportionate with Soundwave’s frame type, silver and dark blue with few embellishments and Jazz wanted to taste it so badly it almost hurt. “Soundwave,” he managed, more than a little distracted by that humming around his horn. “Soundwave, I want to – oh _frag_ that’s good – I want my mouth on your spike, please, Sounders, please – “

Soundwave drew off his sensor horn slowly, pressing a last kiss to the tip before laying back. His hips were twitching now, like the spike was reaching for Jazz’s mouth, and Jazz wasted no time scrambling down Soundwave’s frame. He gave one lick to the tempting spike head in front of him and was rewarded with a groan. Soundwave’s frame was warm, his lubricant scenting the air, and Jazz thought this must have been the best idea Rodimus had had in ages.

“Touch my horns? Please?”

Soundwave complied, fingers caressing gently, and Jazz finally gave in and opened his mouth over Soundwave’s spike. He lowered his head around it until he could feel it against the back of his intake – it was just a tad too big for him to take all of it, but that didn’t matter. He knew some tricks.

Soundwave moaned as Jazz used his mouth to the best of his ability, pulling up slowly and swirling his tongue over small sensitive ridges. Every tiny whimper shot straight to Jazz’s array, heating him up to the point where he could feel tiny droplets of lubricant sliding past the closed panel.

“Jazz,” Soundwave panted, “Jazz, Jazz, Jazz, Jazz – “

He pulled off the spike with a pop, grinning up at Soundwave. “Yeah, lover?”

“In me,” Soundwave forced out, pulling Jazz’s head back up by his horns. For all the force demonstrated, the touch was gentle. “Please. I need your spike. Please.”

Ooh, so someone was finally relaxing enough to not bother with a speech filter anymore. Jazz felt a moment of smug pride at that. “Sure thing, Sounders.” He let himself be maneuvered up and dragged into another strut-melting kiss, finally allowing his panel to slide aside. His spike was so erect and ready it almost ached.

The height difference between them didn’t let Jazz kiss Soundwave and spike him at the same time, unfortunately. Instead, Jazz mouthed the edges of Soundwave’s dock, glossa probing the seams and laving the glass. He lowered one hand and found Soundwave’s valve, wishing now that he’d taken the time to taste that too while he was down there. A small exploration found Soundwave’s node, swollen and ready, and Jazz rubbed it experimentally.

Soundwave arched up, near dislodging Jazz’s hold on him, and _whimpered_.

“Frag, you’re beautiful,” Jazz whispered. “I can’t wait t’ see ya overload.” He managed to stop touching Soundwave’s node, difficult though it was, to guide his own spike to tight, enticing heat. “Ooooooh fraaaag,” he moaned, arching backward as he slid in slowly. “Mmmm, you’re so tight, it’s so good, frag Sounders, you’re so amazing,” and Soundwave’s calipers rippled around him, drawing him further in. He nipped at the golden dock edge. “Hard? Or gentle?”

“Slow first,” Soundwave replied, optics already flickering. “Then hard. Please.”

“Your wish is my command,” Jazz murmured. He pulled out slowly, spike dragging over all the small sensor clusters in Soundwave’s valve, before pushing back in. It was torturous and delicious at once, slow enough to almost be teasing, and it didn’t take long before Soundwave’s hips were making small aborted thrusts upwards.

“Fast now?” Jazz managed, clenching his denta against the temptation to just drive into Soundwave and chase the overload he could feel approaching. And then he wanted to nudge Soundwave over as well, so he could watch that pretty face in overload.

“Fast now,” Soundwave agreed, hips tilting to meet Jazz’s thrust. “Fast, please Jazz, please, so _good_ , please -!”

Jazz mouthed his dock again, glossa trailing the edge. He took hold of Soundwave’s shoulders and spread his knees slightly for balance. “Fast it is.”

Soundwave really was beautiful like this. He arched against Jazz, optics whitening out, tiny mewls escaping his vocalizer at each hard thrust, and it was all Jazz could do to keep the rhythm. Soundwave’s hands stayed on his horns, rubbing them softly, making Jazz keen against the opaque glass of Soundwave’s dock.

One more hard thrust and Soundwave overloaded, valve clenching down hard around Jazz’s spike. That took Jazz right over as well, dragging out a long, low groan as his spike spurted into Soundwave. He collapsed over Soundwave’s solid form, trembling.

It took him a moment to realize that Soundwave was still running hot, his spike still hard and leaking transfluid.

“Takes more than one, huh?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the dock. Soundwave just moaned in response, hips still twitching, calipers spasming in the last vestiges of overload. Jazz waited until the spasms ended before pulling out. He looked down at the mech sprawled out and debauched in front of him. “Slag, ya really are a looker, Soundwave. Who gets t’ see ya like this, I wonder?” He touched the spike on display in front of him with something close to reverence. “I’d like t’ ride this. Would ya let me?”

“Jazz: desired,” Soundwave panted, and Jazz couldn’t help but feel that the other mech was talking about more than just this moment. “Please.”

Jazz smiled and shifted up, until he was holding himself up over Soundwave’s spike and holding onto his shoulders for support. He waited until Soundwave looked at him before lowering himself slowly. The stretch of his valve around Soundwave’s spike was nothing short of delicious, dragging a low moan from Jazz’s vocalizer.

He glanced up again, and suddenly the mood changed. Soundwave’s optics met his own, all open and vulnerable, and instead of the driving pace Jazz had intended he found himself rocking gently, lost in those golden orbs.

Slowly, Soundwave’s arms slid down to rest around Jazz’s waist. He moved his hips slowly, grinding up into Jazz’s valve, matching the slow, rolling movement. He never looked away from Jazz’s face.

This wasn’t just fragging anymore. Somehow it had turned to intimacy, to something close, and Jazz was almost afraid to vent in case it broke the spell. There was a closeness he hadn’t expected, and it felt almost second nature to lean his forehead against Soundwave’s and press tiny kisses to his mouth.

Their second overload was a slow, gradual thing, washing over them like a gentle wave. Jazz trembled in Soundwave’s arms, feeling the larger mech shivering as well, and still they were staring at each other.

Jazz managed a smile. “Well, that was intense.”

Soundwave nodded faintly. “Affirmative.”

“I’m not sure I can move yet,” Jazz admitted. “Can ya stay a few more minutes?”

In reply, Soundwave’s arms tightened around him. “Staying here: preferable.” He hesitated before continuing. “Soundwave… would like to stay here as long as possible.”

Jazz straightened his legs, somehow managing to lie down flat on Soundwave’s frame without dislodging the spike still deep in his valve. “This acceptable?”

“Affirmative.”

Jazz looked into those optics for a moment longer. Then he gave in, leaning down and pressing his mouth to Soundwave’s.

The kiss was slow at first. Soundwave seemed surprised, almost, but then he whimpered, opening his mouth and licking along Jazz’s lower lip. Jazz sucked the soft upper lip into his mouth, deepening the kiss further. Even with that, though, he was sated enough that the kiss barely made his spike twitch. Soundwave was in the same boat, apparently, because the spike in Jazz’s valve stayed soft and spent.

“Jazz: doesn’t desire interface?”

“Jazz: desires closeness,” Jazz replied, smiling slightly. “Desires cuddles. What d’ya think?”

“Soundwave: can do that.” Soundwave returned the smile, a small quirk of the mouth that was nothing short of endearing. “Pleasant recharge, Jazz.”

“Pleasant recharge, Soundwave.” Jazz finally managed to look away, and with a sigh he rested his head against Soundwave’s shoulder. “Hey, Soundwave?”

“Yes?”

“We’re makin’ peace for everyone, you know. With or without Galvatron.” He moved one hand over Soundwave’s shoulder, tracing nonsense symbols on the dark plating. “Ya can stay here.”

“Negative.” Soundwave sighed. “Galvatron: owns. But…” His hand moved on Jazz’s back. “Jazz: desired. Peace: desired. Maybe… Maybe there’s a way.”

“If there is, I’ll help ya find it,” Jazz promised. “Now recharge. Rodimus told me he’d run interference with Galvatron to keep ya here as long as ya want. The others too. So ya got all night here with me.”

Soundwave chuckled softly, and Jazz couldn’t help but purr at the sound. “Soundwave: appreciates that. Now recharge, Jazz. Tomorrow, we will talk to Rodimus Prime.”

“Tomorrow,” Jazz agreed, dimming his optics. “Sounds like a plan.”


	9. Grimlock/Starscream: rut, knotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [ladydragon76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76), who wanted G1 Jetasaurus with rut and/or knotting :) This is another one that ran away with me and ended up way longer than intended. Hope you like!

_Slag-sucking, incompetent, moronic upstart of a rusted scrap-pile! Of_ course _there isn’t anything here._

Starscream circled the tiny island a few times for good measure, but there really was nothing – no settlements, no base, no Autobots, no humans and most especially not any form of fuel. Unless you were an Insecticon, which Starscream thankfully was most emphatically not.

He debated just circling once more and then leave without conducting a closer examination, but decided against it. Soundwave would know if he came back without checking thoroughly. Which meant Megatron would know. Which meant that Starscream would be carrying his own wings down to Hook for reattaching, and he’d rather not re-experience that particular situation for a good long while.

There was nothing for it. He’d have to land on that Primus-forsaken landmass.

He went into a steep dive and then a rapid climb, then cut his engines and let himself drop. The few moments of freefall were exhilarating, as was the flashy transformation sequence he indulged in as he fell. Just because no one was there to see, didn’t mean he couldn’t show off a little. He engaged his antigravs, slowing his speed dramatically, and drifted in for landing as gently as a falling leaf, sticking it perfectly.

There was a resounding ‘crack’.

Starscream hunched down, startled. That certainly hadn’t been him, but it definitely had been _someone_ , unless the island had suddenly evolved some form of gigantic unknown mammal. Trees falling in the forest didn’t sound like a cannon going off, not like that.

Dammit. Now he’d have to investigate.

With extreme caution, Starscream crept through the forest, as silent as he knew how. It was slow going, with all the local flora blocking him, and he was tempted more than once to simply blast everything out of his way, or even take to the air and look from above. But every now and then there was another ‘crack’, always closer than the last, and now he really wanted to know what it was.

At last he came to a clearing. One glance, and Starscream let loose a silent string of curses that would impress even Skywarp.

No giant mammals. Just one giant metal dinosaur with the Autobot logo on its chest.

For a moment, he debated comming the Autobots and telling them they’d misplaced a Dinobot. It would have been interesting, to say the least. But in the end, he really didn’t want to call attention to himself. It’d be best to just leave. Really, he should leave now.

Grimlock roared, loudly, before grabbing a tree in his jaws. He uprooted it in one fierce pull and tossed it aside to crash against a pile of already uprooted timber with another loud ‘crack’.

Starscream had to admit that the show of strength was impressive.

Grimlock transformed, venting heavily. He stood with his back to Starscream and stared at the pile of wood. Then he turned his head enough that Starscream could see the edge of his visor.

“You Starscream may as well come out. Me Grimlock can smell you.”

Slag. Slag it all to the pit.

Instead of entering the clearing, Starscream took to the air, hovering by the top of the trees. He wasn’t stupid, no matter what Megatron was fond of saying. “And why would I do that, Dinobot?”

Grimlock turned around fully, straightening, and Starscream couldn’t help feeling as if the Dinobot leader was smirking at him. “You Starscream curious.”

Well, yes, obviously, or he would already be gone. Everything pointed to Grimlock being here alone, even though the Dinobot was far from a trusted member of the Autobot army. They surely wouldn’t let him out by himself like this.

“Misplaced your handlers, Dinobot?” he sneered. “Or did they finally tire of you?”

“You Starscream don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grimlock stared up at him. “Come on down.”

Starscream laughed, an almost hysterical giggle. “Yeah, right. Sure I will.”

Grimlock took a step closer. “Come on down, Starscream,” he practically purred, “and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Wait, what?

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “And _how_ are you suddenly talking _normally_?”

Grimlock just chuckled, shaking his head. Then, in a feat of power and grace Starscream had honestly thought him incapable of, he leapt straight up in the air. One giant hand closed around Starscream’s left leg.

He was crashing to the ground almost before he’d processed what was happening. There was never even any room to fight – as soon as he’d reoriented, Grimlock was straddling him, one hand securing both of Starscream’s over his head. The other… The other caressed his cheek, slowly.

“Just as lovely up close,” Grimlock crooned, visor locked on Starscream’s face.

Starscream tried fighting, of course he did. He always fought. But fighting off Grimlock proved to be just as impossible as fighting off Megatron – more so, actually, since even the worst curse or insult didn’t make the Dinobot lose his temper. He just chuckled instead, which was nothing short of infuriating.

“Fine,” Starscream said finally, exasperated. He gave one last tug against Grimlock’s hold. “Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me? Hand me over to Optimus Prime in exchange for a snack and a pat on the head?”

“Hardly.” There was that sense of a smirk again. “Optimus Prime doesn’t deserve you.”

Starscream wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. He in-vented deeply, aiming for a scathing reply, when a hint of something in the air triggered an alert on his HUD.

“Oh, frag me,” he breathed. “You’re in _rut_.”

Grimlock didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. The scent in the air, the way he was acting, the soft croons and hums and gentle rumbles, it was all enough to confirm it.

Slag. Slagging Primus on a dented pogo stick.

“Optimus Prime sent you out here to work it off, didn’t he?” Starscream guessed. “Hoping he’d get you back in your usual, somewhat less unbalanced state?”

“As usual, Optimus Prime is an idiot,” Grimlock rumbled. He switched back to his usual speech affectations. “Him Optimus think us Grimlocks constructs. Constructs no have heat cycles. Or rut cycles.” He snorted. “Him Optimus not even know him Grimlock _have_ interfacing array.”

Starscream had to roll his optics in exasperation. “Your leader is dumb as a dented nail.”

“Not my leader,” Grimlock replied. “The leader of my creators. Someone who occasionally wants the same as we do.”

“And what do you want?” Starscream demanded, immediately regretting his words at the glint in Grimlock’s visor.

“Right now?” the Dinobot purred. “I would have thought that was fairly obvious.”

Right. Rut cycle.

“Well, you’ve got another thing coming if you think you’re fragging _me_ ,” Starscream snapped, because, honestly. The idea was simply ludicrous.

Grimlock, slag him, just made that rumbling noise again. It was deep and growly and vibrated straight into Starscream’s struts, making his wings tremble. It was almost enough to distract him from Grimlock letting go of his hands.

“Go ahead, then,” Grimlock said smugly. “Shoot me. Run me off.”

Starscream stared. And didn’t move.

“You’d just fall on me,” he finally defended himself lamely. It was a flimsy excuse, even he could tell as much. “You’re so heavy, you’d probably smash me flat.”

Grimlock chuckled, hot ex-vents teasing Starscream’s plating. “Probably.” He lifted a hand to Starscream’s cheek again. “There’s a cave in the center of the island. It’s fairly big inside, though the opening’s sheltered. And there’s bedding, and fuel, and soft blankets. It even stays comfortably warm at night.”

“What are you saying?” Starscream asked. He’d meant for his tone to be accusing, but for some reason the words lacked all volume.

“I’m saying, run,” Grimlock whispered, lowering his head until his mask tickled Starscream’s helm vent. “And I’ll chase you.” He pulled back, standing up. Looked down at Starscream expectantly.

Starscream ran.

 

He’d meant to leave the island. Really, he had. But there was something exhilarating about teasing the Dinobot, about driving him to distraction, hearing those roars as he crashed through the forest, and Starscream found himself flying low, dodging the trees and rocks and laughing as he flew.

It really was only a matter of time before Grimlock caught him. Even so, it caught Starscream by surprise. He’d thought he’d left Grimlock behind, lost him even, and was slowing to see if he needed to double back – just to check if the coast was clear – when there was a roar from directly below him. Grimlock leapt again, throwing both arms around Starscream’s waist, and Starscream couldn’t find it in him to fight much as he was dragged to the ground again.

He smirked up at the masked and visored face. “Now that you’ve caught me, what are you going to do with me?”

Grimlock purred and nuzzled him. “You Starscream mine.”

He should fight now. He should. Pit, he should have fought hours ago. But now he was low on fuel, his frame was running warm from exertion and the thrill of the chase, and he really didn’t want to fight the big mech who was cradling him so carefully. He could think of a far better way to pass the time.

“No pain,” he warned seriously. “No damage.”

“No pain and no damage,” Grimlock agreed, nuzzling him again. “I promise.”

“Good.” Starscream twisted in his arms until the front of his panel pressed against Grimlock’s lower abdomen. There was scorching heat against his aft, and he was honestly surprised Grimlock’s panel was still closed. "Then show me to this cave of yours.”

Grimlock wasted no time. He picked Starscream up and held him tight, nuzzling his cheek, apparently not looking where he was going but moving fast even so. Starscream didn’t pay too much attention to his surroundings, either. There was someone more interesting for him to watch. Besides, he didn’t need to know where they were – whenever he wanted to leave, he could just go straight up.

Not that he wanted to leave yet. He was still venting fast, warmth pooling in the pit of his belly, and it would serve Megatron right when Starscream came back late. He’d even tell the truth and say he’d had a run-in with a Dinobot. If Soundwave snooped to see what kind of run-in, well… Well, Starscream never claimed responsibility for his fellow Decepticons’ mental health.

“Does this come off?” he asked, one finger tapping Grimlock’s face mask. “Do you have a mouth under there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Grimlock purred, pressing the mask against the touch.

“Of course I would.” Starscream tried to sound indignant. “I’d like to know what to expect from this.”

“Hmm.” Grimlock canted his head for a moment. Then the mask slid aside, retracting into Grimlock’s helm, and the Dinobot smiled. “What to expect… I intend to taste you. Lick every seam, tease the edges of that cockpit. Sample the fluids of your valve and drink down your spike. I want to spread you wide on my fingers, watch the sparks in your seams as you overload. Then I want to be in you in every way imaginable, I want you to ride me and tremble beneath me, I want to be behind you so I can lick those gorgeous wings.” He leaned down and gave Starscream’s helm vents a lick. “I want to knot you. I want us to be stuck together while you tremble in continuous overload. And then, when we’re both finally sated, I want to clean you up with soft cloths and smooth polish, I want to give you fuel and coolant, and I want you to recharge with me. Is that enough detail?”

Starscream gaped. He even forgot venting for a moment, and the warmth in his frame went from gentle to scorching.

“I can work with that,” he said faintly.

 

Grimlock proved to be good for his word. Starscream moaned as he was rocked back, his wings against Grimlock’s broad chest, legs spread wide over those strong hips, the Dinobot’s spike doing _amazing_ things to the sensors in his valve.

“Not too much?” Grimlock rumbled. His arms tightened around Starscream possessively. “I can still pull out.”

“Don’t you dare stop now,” Starscream demanded. His valve was already stretched to the point where he had a hard time rippling his calipers around Grimlock’s knot, but he did his best. “I can take it.”

“You said you’ve never been knotted before.” Grimlock’s hand slid down Starscream’s abdomen to his groin, coming to rest over where the knot was stretching him wide. “You also said no pain and no damage.”

“And there won’t be any,” Starscream promised, his voice almost a groan. “I can take it, don’t stop.”

“If you say so.” Grimlock nuzzled his neck. His hands tightened on Starscream’s hips.

He thrust up, and Starscream keened. The pressure was intense, the size even more so – he’d felt like he’d been spread wide when Grimlock first took him, the spike thick enough to stimulate every node at once, but the _knot_ -! He was skewered, the knot filling every available space and then some, pushing his valve to its very limit. It was delicious agony and exquisite pleasure, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Grimlock growled and bit down on Starscream’s wing, hands pushing him down onto the knotted spike as the first hot spurt hit the walls of Starscream’s valve. Starscream shuddered, wings trembling against Grimlock’s frame.

“Too late to stop now,” Grimlock groaned through clenched denta. His grip on Starscream’s hips was almost hard enough to dent, and his bite was definitely bending metal, and yet Starscream wanted harder. “We’re stuck together until the knot goes down.”

“Good,” Starscream panted. “More. Harder.”

“Harder will damage you.” Grimlock released Starscream’s wing, glossa soothing the deep bite mark. “More than I already did. Primus, you’re so beautiful, Star.”

Starscream moaned as another burst of heat washed against the back of his valve. “How – how long?”

“Until your tank is full and mine is empty,” Grimlock rumbled, rocking them slightly. The motion stimulated every node in Starscream’s valve, making him moan and tremble. “Until there is so much transfluid in your valve that it’s spilling out even past the knot. Until your stomach is inflated with the amount of fluid in your tank, and I can feel it when I touch you.”

Primus, Starscream had _never_ had a partner like this. Every word out of Grimlock’s mouth was a tease and a promise in one. His voice rumbled into Starscream’s very center. And those thick, clawed fingers were more adept at finding hidden sensor nodes than any lover Starscream had ever been with.

In short, Grimlock was devoted. And Starscream was quickly becoming addicted.

One large finger ran along Starscream’s valve opening. It took him a moment to realize that Grimlock was testing the give. “I told you,” he managed. It was still hard to form words, for some reason, especially since another rush of transfluid washed against his gestational tank seal. “I’m not damaged.”

Grimlock grunted an agreement. “I’m making sure. I don’t want you harmed, Starscream. You’re too precious for that.”

“There you go – praising me again.” Starscream let out what could only be called a mewl as Grimlock rocked them again. “I’m really not – ooo _ohhh_ – what you say.”

“Just because your mad excuse for a leader can’t see what a treasure he has in you doesn’t mean that you aren’t one,” Grimlock replied, and honestly, who said that kind of thing during interfacing? Starscream didn’t know what to think about this mech. He was rapidly losing the ability to think at all.

Deep inside, he felt the gestational tank seal spiral open against the insistent push of hot, charged fluid. Grimlock clearly felt it too, if the possessive growl he let out was any indicator. Starscream had expected the pressure in his valve to lessen as the fluid flooded his tank, but Grimlock snarled, thrusting up twice in rapid succession, filling Starscream right up again.

It was _divine_.

Especially when Grimlock’s finger moved to his node, pressing and teasing in the manner he’d learned Starscream liked the most. It didn’t take much for Starscream to overload, and somehow Grimlock managed to keep him cresting that wave of pleasure, and Starscream could hear himself keening louder and louder but didn’t care, not when it felt like this. Just as the overload began to ebb Grimlock bit down on his wing again and thrust up, and Starscream howled until he fell offline.

 

He woke up to the feeling of something soft moving in gentle circles over his plating and an aching emptiness in his valve. Someone was crooning to him, almost singing. It took effort to force his optics online.

“There you are.” Grimlock smiled down at him. “Any pain? Any damage reports?”

Starscream shook his head. He felt weak as a newly-emerged sparkling. “No,” he rasped. “Low on fuel. Stiff and sore.”

Grimlock nodded. “To be expected. I have energon for you, if you think you can manage to sit up against me.”

“Of course I can,” Starscream scoffed. “I’m not an invalid.” Still, despite his bragging, it took Grimlock actually lifting him to get him situated. At least the Dinobot was kind enough not to say anything about it. Nor about how he had to support Starscream’s hands as they cradled the offered energon cube for him to even have a chance to raise it to his lips.

Once he’d emptied the cube, he took the chance to look down and examine himself for damage. There was the expected amount of minor scratches and paint transfers – nearly twenty-four hours of interfacing was bound to have left traces – but what really had him staring was his abdomen. There was a very noticeable bump.

“I’m… I’m still inflated?”

“Um. Yes.” For the first time since they’d met, Grimlock sounded unsure. “There was… more fluid than expected. It will go down.”

Starscream turned his head to smile up at his larger lover. “I don’t mind. Really. Besides, I can’t possibly transform like this, so I’ll just have to stay here with you for a while longer.”

Grimlock chuckled. “I suppose you will at that.” He picked up the cloth again, ran it in slow, careful motions over Starscream’s wings. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Starscream replied. “Thank me for what?”

“For staying,” Grimlock elaborated. “You could have left.”

Starscream hummed in agreement. “Yes. I could have. But I didn’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Grimlock’s mouth met Starscream’s in a barely-there kiss that made his lips tingle. “I didn’t get much choice in this, but if I could have chosen a partner freely, it would always have been you.”

“What?” Starscream was beyond surprised. He knew he was attractive, of course he did, but this made no sense. “But – but you don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” Grimlock kissed him again. “I know you’re fierce, and strong, and intelligent. You’re beautiful and headstrong and clever and protective, and you would have made a perfect carrier.”

“Would have made?” Starscream’s hands drifted to his abdomen of their own accord. “I won’t kindle from this?”

“I don’t know,” Grimlock answered, and Starscream could tell he was telling the truth. “Optimus Prime is right in one thing. There’s never been anything like the Dinobots before. Even Ratchet wasn’t sure how this would work out. It’s partially why I’m on this island – no one was sure how much of my mind I would retain, and no one wanted a rampaging dinosaur.” He sounded bitter.

“Plus, they think your mind is sub-par to begin with,” Starscream commented. He turned a bit in Grimlock’s arms so he could rest his head against that broad chest comfortably. Beneath the chest-plating, he could make out the tell-tale humming of a spark.

Construct. Optimus Prime needed his processor rebooted. Or preferably replaced.

“My creators don’t. But yes, you’re right.”

“For what it’s worth,” Starscream began slowly, not entirely sure where he was going with this. “You had a lot more control than I would have expected. Far from everyone would have taken such care with me. I’ve seen seekers damaged during grounder ruts before, by mecha who couldn’t or didn’t care how they treated them. And… And if I do kindle, I won’t mind. It would be… It would be good to see more of you.”

Grimlock nuzzled the top of his helm. “I appreciate the sentiment. But if you do kindle, that’s a whole new set of problems that I don’t wish on you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Starscream grinned. “Seekers almost always bear seekers, or at least fliers.”

“All right.” Grimlock huffed a quiet laugh. “But you can’t say that you suddenly bearing a clutch of baby pteranodons wouldn’t raise questions.”

That had Starscream laughing as well, which was probably Grimlock’s intention. “If I end up kindling, I’ll let you know. Somehow.”

“I’ll give you my comm frequency.” Grimlock cradled Starscream carefully and lay down, making sure his wings were free to move. “Comfortable?”

“Very.” Starscream sighed happily. And he was – he was warm, and cared for, and fully fueled for the first time since they’d crashed on this planet. There was nothing wrong with this scenario.

Well, other than that he’d have to leave eventually.

But he wouldn’t worry about that yet. For now, recharge beckoned, and he was safe in Grimlock’s arms, and everything was right with the world.

Grimlock purred. His arms tightened around Starscream. “Recharge, my precious Star,” he whispered. “I’ll keep watch over you.”

“I know,” Starscream mumbled. “I know you will.”

He wasn’t sure quite how he knew. Or why he felt like he could trust Grimlock, that he was safe with him. It was something to be examined for another time. Right now… Right now, he aimed to make the most of it. That meant relaxing in Grimlock’s arms until his bump had gone down.

And then maybe convince his lover to help him inflate it again. That could be fun.


	10. Ratchet/Soundwave: tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kaekokat, who wanted tfprime Ratchet/Soundwave and tentacles :)
> 
> Fair warning: This one fought me a bit. I'm only superficially familiar with Transfomers Prime - I think I've watched something like seven episodes - so this was a fun challenge for me. And if anyone's a bit out of character, I hope you'll forgive me for that :)

Ratchet hated scouting. He had better things to do with his time, more critical tasks to fulfil. Also, the Autobots had an actual scout, plus at least one other mecha better at this than him. Ratchet was good at a lot of things, and sneaking most definitely wasn’t one of them.

Yet here he was, sneaking through what seemed to be an abandoned energon mine, trying to keep as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t be discovered in case the Decepticons were still guarding it for some reason. It didn’t look like they were – the mine shafts were dark, the equipment scattered and broken. He wouldn’t even have bothered checking it out if it hadn’t been for that small blip showing up on his scanner. So far he hadn’t reached it, since every pathway that seemed to take him in the right direction was a dead end.

It was more than a little frustrating.

_All right then. One more, and then I’m calling it a day. Damn energon’s probably buried so deep not even the ‘Cons could get to it._

The mineshaft he followed curved to the right, meaning he could only see a few steps ahead at any given time. It at least seemed to be going downward, spiraling into the ground, but it also seemed to be getting narrower. He’d already had to squeeze through a few spots that were almost too narrow for him to pass.

_Slag it all. I knew we should have sent Bumblebee._

But Bee was busy elsewhere, and Arcee was patrolling, and Bulkhead was simply too big for this. That left Ratchet. For all that he didn’t like it.

He squeezed past another outcropping in the rock. This one was the worst one yet, and Ratchet decided he wouldn’t press on any further. It wasn’t worth it to get stuck down here, no matter what was on the other side.

Too bad that what was on the other side was a Decepticon.

_Oh, slag. Slag me to the Pit._

There was no ready escape. He couldn’t hurry back, the passage was too narrow for that, and he’d be easy prey.

_Face it, Ratchet. You’re in trouble now._

He kept looking at Soundwave. The ‘Con was standing with his back to Ratchet, motionless, though it was too much to hope that he hadn’t noticed the intrusion. Even Ratchet knew that Soundwave noticed everything. And with no safe retreat, all he could really hope for was that he wasn’t worth the ‘Con’s time or effort.

“Well, well, well,” Knock Out’s voice rang out. “Bite off more than you can manage?”

So much for that hope. Ratchet pulled his blaster. “I’m not here to fight.”

The data cable was fast, faster even than Ratchet would have believed. It shot out of Soundwave’s abdomen, securing Ratchet’s arm against his chassis and forcing him to drop the weapon.

“Hold still.” That was Breakdown. “This will only hurt a lot.”

Ratchet hadn’t come here to fight. But he hadn’t come here to surrender, either.

He didn’t think about what he was doing. He just transformed one finger and brought his welder to bear on Soundwave’s cable.

Soundwave spun around, abandoning whatever he’d been working on and focusing on Ratchet. The first cable was joined by several more, and Ratchet was grabbed and slammed against the mineshaft wall. Dirt and debris rained down on both of them.

“Careful,” Ratchet rasped. “Don’t want to bring the ceiling down on us.” He turned his welder a bit, trying to reach whatever cable he could, but Soundwave had clearly learned. None of the cables were within reach.

It occurred to him that fragging off this particular Decepticon might not have been his brightest idea.

Soundwave stepped closer, releasing another cable from his abdomen. This one split into several smaller filaments, and Ratchet shored up his firewalls as much as possible, hiding everything sensitive. Hopefully it would take long enough for Soundwave to hack him that Ratchet would be late for his reporting in, which meant the others would know there was trouble. That was unfortunately all he could ask for – he had no doubt that Soundwave would get through his firewalls eventually. All Ratchet could do was play for time.

“Guess the mine wasn’t completely abandoned after all, huh?” he managed. “You lot run out of grunts or something?”

Soundwave tilted his head. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to either. The ‘you’re one to talk’ was clear as day.

The split cable made contact with Ratchet’s abdomen. But instead of going for his data ports, as he’d expected, the small filaments made their way under his plating, reaching for the more sensitive parts of Ratchet’s frame.

Oh. Not an interrogation then. A quick, surgically placed charge strike to knock him offline and leave him in near stasis, probably so Soundwave could finish his work uninterrupted and without bringing a group of vengeful Autobots down on the Decepticons’ collective helms.

Well, two could play that game.

Ratchet waited until Soundwave’s sneaky little tendrils had settled. Then he pulsed his spark, driving his own spark energy charge into the tiny filaments.

Soundwave startled, cables trembling faintly.

_Hah. Don’t try a medic’s tricks on a medic, Soundwave._

Before the Decepticon had the chance to harm him, Ratchet pulsed his spark again. The resulting charge travelled up Soundwave’s cables to his frame, causing visible sparks in his seams. Soundwave tensed, cables tightening on Ratchet’s frame. Then they abruptly fell away.

“Get out of my sight,” Starscream’s voice snarled, as Soundwave turned his back on Ratchet.

He didn’t hesitate to obey.

 

For a while, he managed to forget about the entire thing. Life went on as normal – the kids were loud, the Decepticons were a nuisance, his team did more damage to themselves than necessary. It was a cycle Ratchet was well used to by now, but every now and then, something changed slightly.

Like Soundwave.

The next time Ratchet had to fight the Decepticons himself, Soundwave had snagged him with one cable and just held on. Not tightening the hold, not working his way into Ratchet’s systems, just holding on. He hadn’t let go until Ratchet had threatened him with the welder again. And even that shouldn’t have worked, not again, so something was definitely off.

After that, Soundwave sought him out at every confrontation. He’d snag the left arm first, making it impossible for Ratchet to use his welder, and then he’d hold on. Split up a cable and sneak the filaments under Ratchet’s plating. Sometimes he’d held on until Megatron had ordered a retreat. Sometimes, one of the other Autobots had forced him to let go.

The last time, he’d only let go once Ratchet pulsed his spark at him, causing those visible sparks in the gaps in Soundwave’s plating.

It was beyond weird. And Ratchet didn’t like it.

About eight months after the first incident, he got more answers than he really needed.

 

Once again, they were short a scout. But at least this time Ratchet was in a forest, and not stuck in a cramped underground mine.

And once again, Soundwave was there.

Ratchet had barely time to transform before he was taken, cables tightening around his abdomen and pulling him off-balance. He was forced up against a rock face and held there.

Soundwave approached. As usual his mask was blank, but there was a new energy about him that Ratchet hadn’t encountered before.

“I hope you know I won’t talk this time either,” he forced out. The cables were making it hard to vent.

Soundwave didn’t reply. Not that Ratchet had expected him to, really. The feeling of cables sneaking under his plating, on the other hand, was becoming almost a common occurrence.

“If you want under my plating that badly, there are better ways to go about it.”

The cables tightened again, making Ratchet grunt. He tried to twist, to pull free, but as usual Soundwave was too strong.

He didn’t want to pulse his spark again. But he couldn’t vent, and he was overheating, and rapidly running out of options.

As soon as the charge hit Soundwave, sparking in his seams, the cables loosened. Not completely, but enough to let Ratchet cool down a bit. The Decepticon arched his back, and the motion widened the gaps in his plating and showed off tantalizing glimpses of protoform.

Ratchet had to admit it was a captivating sight. Or maybe that was just his slightly overheating processor.

Soundwave shuddered as the sparks died down, lowering his head again to focus on Ratchet. Knock Out’s voice rang out in the woods. “I’m telling you, Soundwave, there’s no way to do what you’re describing. You’re the only one who can control what travels across your cables. They’re surge protected, they can’t carry charge like that.”

_Ah, so that’s what the issue is._

“Knock Out’s a brat,” Ratchet said softly. “He doesn’t know half of what he thinks he knows.” He canted his head. “So that’s why you can’t leave me alone. You’ve tried to replicate what happened in the mine, and no one knows what you’re talking about.” He smirked. “Must drive you slightly insane.”

Soundwave stepped closer, far into Ratchet’s personal space. One cable teased in under his abdominal plates, seeking the sensors close to his spark.

“You’re going to need to tell me what you want,” Ratchet continued, taking care to keep his tone soft. “I’ll keep fighting you if I feel I need to.”

The only response was yet another data cable splitting into tiny filaments and burrowing in under his hip plating. Soundwave was so close now he could touch Ratchet with his hands if he wished – but he didn’t seem to want to. It was all in the cables.

“Tell me.” It was as close to a demand as Ratchet dared make it – he was at a significant disadvantage here. If Soundwave tired of what they were doing, he could terminate Ratchet without even touching him.

“Want to know… more,” Soundwave played back. “So… good.”

Ratchet managed to not chuckle, though it was a close thing. This, at least, was an angle he could work.

“If I teach you,” he murmured, “you’ll have to reciprocate.”

Soundwave looked at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“All right then.” Ratchet tried to relax, much as one could when held prisoner by the Decepticon third in command in the middle of the woods somewhere. “It’s not an electrical current, not as such. That’s why the surge protection isn’t doing you any good. It’s all spark energy.” Soundwave canted his head at him. “Do you know how to pulse your spark?” Ratchet continued. “Do that, and channel the energy through your data cables.”

He could practically see the moment Soundwave realized that that was the trick, and honestly, he half expected to be let go and left in the woods at that point. There was no reason why Soundwave should want to do this with him if he could do it with someone in his own faction. So the rolling spark pulse transmitting charge to all the small sensor nodes under his plating took Ratchet by surprise, making him gasp.

“That’s it.” He pulsed his spark back, enjoying the sight of Soundwave trembling. “Like a merge, only via the data cables.” The return pulse hit him hard, and he almost keened under the onslaught. “You’re – ooh – a quick study.”

Soundwave’s visor fritzed at Ratchet’s next pulse, flickering static in what had to be the Decepticon’s equivalent to a moan. It was very motivating, as was the steadily widening gaps in Soundwave’s plating, and Ratchet pulsed his spark twice in succession.

The feedback on top of the return pulses would have floored him if he’d been supporting his own weight. Soundwave held him tight, almost too tight, but for the first time Ratchet appreciated the firm grip. And now Soundwave toppled forward, catching himself against Ratchet’s upper arms and creating a feedback loop that drove Ratchet’s charge up like nothing else he’d ever encountered.

He didn’t know who overloaded first. With the loop in place the surplus charge traveled between them without pause, prolonging the shared overload until Ratchet’s optics whitened completely and his processor blanked.

He came back to himself slowly, more than a little disoriented. Somehow he’d ended up in a pile on the ground, still wrapped in Soundwave’s cables. The Decepticon was in front of him, rebooting.

This would be a good time to flee. It would.

He didn’t.

Soundwave’s visor lit up and turned towards Ratchet.

“That was intense. I don’t suppose you’ll let me go now?” Ratchet tried lifting his arms against the cables slightly, not quite straining against the hold.

The cables tightened around him. That was a little unnerving. Ratchet couldn’t think of many ways that boded well for him, but he could only too vividly imagine ways it could go badly.

Soundwave pulled him closer, almost into his own lap. His head tilted forward, forehead to Ratchet’s forehead, and one small cable teasingly ran across Ratchet’s array panel.

_Well. That was one I didn’t see coming._

“Not sending me back yet?” He scrutinized that screen-like visor, looking for any hint of emotion or intent. Useless, of course – Soundwave never revealed anything.

Except, apparently, his array. Ratchet looked down when he heard the click of a panel slipping aside, getting an opticful of Soundwave’s extending spike. It pulsed, and it took Ratchet a moment to notice that the small filaments teasing the edges of his own array were matching the same rhythm.

Soundwave clearly had a plan.

“Open,” Breakdown’s voice said, harsh and at odds with the situation, as another small tendril traced over Ratchet’s array. “Let me in.”

Ratchet’s panel was already pinging him with release commands, spike hot and straining behind it. And really, considering everything else he’d let Soundwave do to him so far, this was nothing.

His spike extended into Soundwave’s waiting cable. He gasped as the head brushed against Soundwave’s spike, a jolt of pleasure slamming through his systems. The cable tightened around both spikes, Soundwave rocking against him slowly and creating the most exquisite friction against Ratchet’s spike.

It was all rapidly too much. Soundwave didn’t let up on the stimulus to the tiny sensors under Ratchet’s plating either, and he’d honestly lost count of how many tendrils were caressing him at this point. Combined with the drag-squeeze of the cable working on their spikes, he was losing the ability to form actual thoughts.

The overload crashed over him like a shockwave. The pleasure was intense and rough, dragged out of him through every one of the multitude of tiny contact points Soundwave was teasing. His spike jerked, splattering liberal amounts of transfluid over both their plating and adding slickness to the glide of spike against spike. Soundwave trembled, overloading silently. Ratchet was gratified to see him weaken a bit. At least it wasn’t just Ratchet losing motor control.

“Not that I’m not enjoying myself,” Ratchet panted – and he was, strangely enough, despite the healthy slice of fear that was present in every one of his interactions with Soundwave – “I have places to go. Mecha to fix. Let me up.”

Soundwave lifted his head, blank visor focused on Ratchet again. The cables tightened.

 

It was much, much later when Ratchet finally ambled homewards. He knew he was driving slowly enough to be a hindrance to traffic, which luckily there wasn’t much of, but it was really all he could do to stay on the road. His sensors weren’t calibrated right, his gyros were destabilized, and that last overload had done something to his left optic that he was frankly too scared to examine too closely.

Soundwave was insane. Clearly. And Ratchet had never been fragged so thoroughly in his existence. Those cables had been everywhere – his sensors, his spike, his valve, his _mouth_ , and every touch had driven him higher. And every time he didn’t think he could take any more, Soundwave _pushed_ , and Ratchet shattered. Over and over again.

He rolled into base slowly and creakily, hoping no one was there. Of course he wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey, Ratchet! You look like you had a run-in with MECH!” Miko frowned up at him, hands planted on her hips. “I thought you said that this was a boring patrol route! Did you go out and have fun without us?”

Ratchet sighed. “Had a little run-in with a Decepticon. I’m fine, don’t worry.” He managed to smirk. “You should see the other guy.” Soundwave had barely been standing as well, and his flight path had been decidedly wobbly.

“Sure you’re okay?” Raf sounded concerned. Sweet kid.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Ratchet offered him a smile. “Might recharge for a solid week, but I’m okay. I’ll see you three later, okay?”

“Okay, Ratchet!” Miko chirped.

Ratchet tried to ignore the whispers. They were just worried, which was logical. And not completely baseless. But he really did need recharge and some serious defrag.

After all, Soundwave was still out there. And Ratchet had a feeling the ‘Con wasn’t done with him yet.


	11. Aerials/Head trine: heat/rut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For 888Allis888, who wanted heat and answering rut with the Aerialbots and the Elite trine :D Hope you like this!

He noticed it in Fireflight first. The baby jet was flying erratically, even more than usual, dodging and veering more than even being shot at could account for.

It made Thundercracker nervous. More for Fireflight’s safety than his own.

::Something’s off with Fireflight.:: He banked, firing across the baby jet’s tail in a way that looked like an attack, but was really meant to herd the smaller jet back towards the other Aerialbots. Fireflight really wasn’t acting right.

::Skydive too!:: Skywarp’s shout turned into a yelp. ::Frag, he almost crashed into me!::

::Get them grounded,:: Starscream ordered. ::I’ve got Silverbolt on my tail, let’s get them down in that clearing over there.::

Thundercracker turned Fireflight around again – thankfully, he seemed to have enough sense to let himself be guided.

::Slag, I’m going to have to nab him or something.:: Skywarp replied. ::He’s not doing what I want. I’ll need to get real close, I think, maybe I can – oh, slag.::

::What?:: Starscream bit. Thundercracker didn’t blame him for being snappy – from what he could see, Silverbolt was giving Starscream more of a challenge than usual. The Aerialbot leader didn’t seem to be coherent.

::He’s giving off pheromones like you wouldn’t believe,:: Skywarp snarled. ::He’s in slagging _heat_.::

Starscream swore colorfully. ::Close your vents. Both of you. Do not give in, do you hear me? Skywarp, do you have optics on the other two?::

::They’re barrel rolling around each other,:: Skywarp replied. ::Showing off. Really hot, actually.::

Thundercracker would have watched if he could. It would be a sight to see. But if he took his focus away from Fireflight for even a moment, he had a feeling the jet would find the nearest cliff face and slam straight into it. ::How the frag are they in heat? They’re babies!:: He couldn’t smell it on Fireflight, not with his vents closed like this, but there was no doubt in his mind that it had hit all the Aerialbots at once. They were a gestalt, linked by spark. Plus, they were all acting off. At least on the bonus side, Silverbolt was likely to follow Starscream wherever he went.

Fireflight finally almost crashed into the clearing, and Thundercracker landed behind him. Starscream was already there, trying to get Silverbolt to _“stay here, slaggit, I’m trying to help you here”_.

“About time,” Starscream snarled, once again pushing Silverbolt back to the center of the clearing. “Think you can keep these two contained while I help Sky with the others?”

Thundercracker nodded, taking hold of Fireflight’s shoulder to steer him towards his gestaltmate. “I’ll try. Hurry back, would you?”

Fireflight _purred_ at him. Then he looked all confused, like he didn’t know what he was doing.

Starscream snorted. “I can’t believe they let them out like this. Let’s hope they corral easily.” He took off, leaving Silverbolt reaching for him.

Thundercracker sighed. “Silverbolt, come here. Come here, sweetspark.” He reached for the tall Aerialbot, and thankfully, Silverbolt was just out of it enough that he stumbled against him. He stared at Thundercracker in clear bewilderment before leaning in and rubbing his face against Thundercracker’s throat. “Mm,” he purred. “You smell good too.” Then he looked up and flinched, pulling back far enough to stand just out of reach and stare at Thundercracker.

Fireflight turned, squealed, and plastered himself against Thundercracker’s side. “Oh, ‘Bolt’s right. You smell _amazing_.” He tilted his head, large blue optics beaming up at Thundercracker. “Can I lick you? Do you think I smell good too?”

 _Oh, Primus help me._ As if he wasn’t already heating up just from keeping his vents closed. ::Please, _please_ hurry back.::

::On it, TC. We’ll be there in a minute.::

 

“Is this even secluded enough?” Skywarp fended off Skydive’s wandering hands. “These guys are too lost in it to be going anywhere, and I’d hate to have to fight off Prime and the rest right now. I don’t know if they have enough experience to… you know.”

To take abortive measures. To keep their vents closed. To not let the heat response coding take over completely and ravage innocent younglings going through their first heat cycle.

Thundercracker frowned. “Are we really going to do this, though? I get keeping them safe, but…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. They knew where he was going with it.

“Do you trust anyone else to?” Skywarp asked, tone sharper than normal. “We know this, TC.”

“Yeah.” Thundercracker looked down at where Fireflight was clinging to them. “But still. They should at least have a choice.”

“Whatever we do, we need to do it fast,” Skywarp groaned. “I’m redlining here.”

“They’re fliers. That makes them mine. But you’re right, they need to make a choice.” Starscream pursed his lips as he regarded the Aerialbots. Fireflight was still draped over Thundercracker’s side, Air Raid hovering behind him and leaning forward eagerly. Skydive hadn’t given up on Skywarp, and Slingshot was on his knees, all but attached to Starscream’s leg. Silverbolt was the only one with still a bit of focus in his eyes.

“Silverbolt,” Starscream said. Thundercracker heard the effort he put into keeping his tone both firm and kind. “Did the Autobots know you were in heat when they sent you into battle today?”

“We’re – what?” Silverbolt blinked, swaying a little towards Starscream. “I don’t – I didn’t know we were.”

::It really is the first time, then. Poor kids.:: Skywarp took Skydive’s hand again, this time keeping hold of it.

“Silverbolt,” Starscream said again, strongly enough to make the Aerialbot leader’s gaze snap back to him. “You and your gestalt are all in heat. We can get you back to the Autobots, have them collect you, if that’s what you wish. Or we can help you ourselves, teach you how to handle it.”

“I can’t…” Silverbolt shook his head. It looked like he was struggling to keep his focus now. “I can’t decide for them.”

“They can’t decide for themselves.” Starscream’s gaze narrowed. “You see that, even now. You’re their leader. You can make decisions for them.”

“Please, ‘Bolt,” Air Raid whimpered, proving he still had a smidgeon of awareness of where he was and what was going on. “Want them.”

Silverbolt looked torn. “I guess…” He sighed. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want… The Protectobots are too young. The others… No.” He turned to Starscream again, looking determined this time. “Don’t harm them. Don’t harm us.”

“We don’t harm younglings,” Starscream murmured softly, stepping closer so he could rest a hand against Silverbolt’s cheek. “We don’t harm our lovers. We’ll take care of you.”

Thundercracker finally gave in and opened his vents. By now the air around him was saturated in the sweet heat-scent that was Fireflight, and the baby jet had progressively gotten warmer and warmer against him. The response coding took over his processor so fast he could almost feel it, establishing new priorities and default actions. It was nothing short of relief to turn towards Fireflight and catch those tempting lips with his own. “Do you want this?” he rumbled, noticing how Fireflight shuddered at the deep tone.

“Please,” Fireflight whimpered. “Please please yes.” He chased after Thundercracker’s mouth, optics dimming.

Somehow Fireflight, and the rest of the Aerialbots, took over his world. The smaller jet was adorable, smelter-hot and pliant against him, but part of Thundercracker stayed alert and listening for threats. They were out in the open with five heat-addled Aerials that the coding was already telling him were his and his trine’s to care for and protect. He wouldn’t – couldn’t - let his guard down until the heat was sated.

“Not me,” he heard Silverbolt whisper. “Them first.”

“Are you sure?” Starscream replied. “I can smell you from here.”

“I can wait,” Silverbolt insisted. “Please. Take care of my brothers.”

Admirable. Silverbolt was clearly good leadership material. And Starscream had to be fighting the coding, or he wouldn’t be able to prioritize like that.

Fireflight’s slim fingers teased over Thundercracker’s vents, stealing away the rest of his thoughts. Thundercracker rumbled in response, fingers trailing down Fireflight’s frame to cup a scorching hot array panel. It slid aside instantly, revealing a valve so moist it was dripping, and tight enough around Thundercracker’s questing fingers to almost be painful.

“Have you done this before, sweetling?” he murmured against Fireflight’s throat, nipping and licking at the cables there.

“With – with them,” Fireflight panted. Behind him, Air Raid leaned forward and whimpered. “Not often. Not with anyone else.”

Thundercracker added a finger, fighting against the coding pushing him to claim, to conquer. He would not hurt his lovers. “Then we need to prepare you.” He pulled Fireflight closer and off-balance, using his own greater mass to knock Fireflight’s legs from under him so he could lay him back in the grass. Fireflight keened and spread his legs, showing off pale, soaked valve lips and a fitfully glinting anterior node.

He was irresistible.

One finger became two became three, and Fireflight keened in overload, his valve clenching down impossibly tight on Thundercracker’s fingers. “More,” he keened, hips thrusting erratically against the touch, “please, I need more, Thundercracker please, please!”

“Shh,” Thundercracker crooned, easily slotting himself between Fireflight’s thighs. He couldn’t remember opening his panel, but his spike was already extended and straining towards that tight heat. “I’ve got you, sweetling. Air Raid, dearspark, come here.”

Air Raid almost threw himself down where Thundercracker indicated, next to Fireflight. His legs were spread and panel slid aside before Thundercracker had even managed to enter Fireflight.

“That’s it,” Thundercracker crooned. “You’re so good. So sweet. Both of you. Yes, I know,” he told Fireflight, letting his spike rub against Fireflight’s soaked valve as the younger jet whimpered. “You need more. Easy, sweetling.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Thundercracker pushed into Fireflight. He was more open than he had been, though only marginally, and each caliper was a barrier that gave way slowly. Thundercracker groaned, helm against Fireflight’s chest, fingers trembling in Air Raid’s valve, as the exquisite pressure finally gave way and let him hilt himself in Fireflight.

Behind him, Skywarp shouted in unmistakable overload. The rough sound blended well with Skydive’s soft keening.

Fireflight’s legs crossed behind Thundercracker’s hips, tugging him closer. “More,” the Aerialbot whispered.

Thundercracker didn’t have to be asked twice. He pulled back out and thrust forward, taking care at the last minute to not set such a driving pace that it would hurt Fireflight, but not managing to restrain himself much. Beneath him Fireflight was mewling, hips meeting Thundercracker’s every thrust, tilting and twisting and somehow making sure that he kept hitting Fireflight’s ceiling node.

It didn’t take them long. Thundercracker was vaguely aware of someone roughly pulling his hand out of Air Raid’s valve, but then Fireflight’s calipers tightened around him as he buried himself in the molten heat, pelvis to pelvis, and Thundercracker shouted loud enough to completely drown out Fireflight’s wail of release.

He almost fell offline. Almost. But in the back of his processor the coding was pushing him to make safe, keep guard, protect, and so instead of letting himself collapse forward and succumbing to the very tempting prospect of recharge, he pushed himself to his feet.

Fireflight was out, optics dark and vents even. Thundercracker could practically see him cool down. His heat was over, at least.

Over to the left, Skydive was a dark pile of sated plating as well. Curled up in recharge, it was painfully obvious how young he really was. How young all the Aerialbots were.

He glanced the other way, finding Air Raid half buried under Skywarp’s frame and seemingly very happy with the situation. Thundercracker took a step away – they didn’t need his help – when a low whimper froze him in his tracks.

Starscream had clearly heard it as well. He extricated himself from a slowly blinking Slingshot, petting a bronze-colored cheek, and turned towards the center of the clearing.

Silverbolt was visibly trembling, optics darkened. Thundercracker could feel the scorching heat coming off him from several paces away.

“Oh, sweetspark,” Starscream crooned, and no one who didn’t know him intimately would ever have suspected he could speak so softly. “Oh, dearling, come here. Come let us take care of you.”

“Hurts,” Silverbolt whimpered, but he let himself be pulled into Starscream’s arms. Thundercracker couldn’t resist – he draped himself over Silverbolt’s back, mouthing at his neck cables.

“I know it does,” Starscream soothed. “I know it does. Thundercracker and I will take care of it, alright? We’ll make the pain go away.”

Thundercracker snuck an arm in between Silverbolt and Starscream, hand gliding downwards until he found the edge of Silverbolt’s panel. Somehow it was still closed, though he could feel the lubricant pushing its way past the edges. The hot metal shifted aside under his hand as Silverbolt keened, tilting his hips to press against Thundercracker’s touch.

He slipped a finger inside, finding that Silverbolt was far from as tight as Fireflight had been. He could fit two fingers easily, enjoying the hitch in Silverbolt’s vents as he did.

“Who do you want?” Starscream asked. His helm was still against Silverbolt’s, optics half dimmed. He was gorgeous, and if Thundercracker hadn’t been so heat-responsive right now, he knew he would have pounced on Star without second thought.

Silverbolt moaned. His valve clenched around Thundercracker’s fingers, and Thundercracker added a third. _Primus, he’s open. I think I could almost fit my entire hand in there._

“Both,” Silverbolt gasped, riding Thundercracker’s fingers enthusiastically. “I want both. Please.”

Starscream stared. “That’ll hurt you.”

“No, it won’t,” Thundercracker replied. He nuzzled Silverbolt’s other cheek. “He’s open enough. You’ve done that before, haven’t you, Silverbolt?”

The Aerialbot nodded. His plump lower lip was caught between his teeth, and his optics were a dark, almost black navy. Thundercracker couldn’t resist. He bit down on a main cable and twisted his hand, putting pressure directly on Silverbolt’s anterial node, and watched enraptured as Silverbolt overloaded with a shout.

Starscream still looked doubtful, though his optics were glued to Silverbolt’s slack-jawed face. Thundercracker could feel the heat of Star’s panel against the back of his own hand.

“He can take us,” he reassured him. “I could fit three fingers without stretching. He can if you want to, Star.”

Starscream hesitated, but then he nodded. “Sit down, then. I’ll arrange myself around you.”

Behind them Skywarp groaned, drowning out Air Raid’s small whimpers. Thundercracker smiled. He’d never have thought the little flier was that quiet in overload, not with as much attitude as he sported normally. Guess you really never could tell.

He pulled his fingers free from Silverbolt’s valve and lowered himself to the ground, one leg on either side of Silverbolt’s. Starscream tugged at Silverbolt’s hand, making sure they were sitting down together and arranging them comfortably.

The wet heat of Silverbolt’s valve on Thundercracker’s bared spike was enough to have him moaning. When Starscream settled with one leg over Thundercracker’s and one leg under and grasped both their spikes in his hand, Thundercracker damn near keened. He bit down on Silverbolt’s shoulder, took hold of his hips, and _pulled_.

Silverbolt sank slowly down onto the two spikes.

In front of him, Starscream moaned in bliss. Thundercracker could feel his hand slide aside as Silverbolt gradually took more of them. It was a tight fit, but not too tight, and Silverbolt finally seated himself fully and let them take all his weight for a moment.

“Tight,” Starscream hissed.

“So good,” Silverbolt panted.

“Fragging hot is what it is,” Skywarp supplied from next to them. Thundercracker glanced over to see his trinemate standing up with Skydive in his arms. He carried the dark mech easily and put him gently down next to his brothers.

“Move,” Starscream gasped. His hands were roving over Silverbolt’s frame. “Come on, ‘Bolt, move.”

Thundercracker grabbed Silverbolt’s hips again and hoisted. It didn’t do much, but it pushed him off balance enough that he collapsed against Starscream’s chest.

“Too much,” Silverbolt groaned. “It’s too much, I can’t, I can’t move, it’s too full, too tight, please –“

“You can,” Thundercracker soothed. He kept hold of those pale hips, pulling and pushing in an even rhythm. Starscream caught on quickly, too, putting his arms around Silverbolt and assisted in the motion. “Just rock, like this. Slowly, easy. Pits, it’s so good, sweetspark.” He let his head drop against Silverbolt’s back, resisting the urge to thrust, to mark and claim. “It’s so good, you have no idea how good you feel.”

The slow glide of a tight valve and Star’s hot throbbing spike against his was nothing more than exquisite. Thundercracker could feel every caliper twitch, every small motion, every torturously slow glide of sensor against sensor, and he never wanted it to end. Silverbolt was very responsive, keening and almost babbling between them, rocking faster as he found his rhythm.

Starscream went over first, surprisingly. Thundercracker could see him stiffen, felt the spike against his own throb, and then the almost scorching heat of charged transfluid pushing Silverbolt’s calipers to the limits. That set Silverbolt off as well, with a wail and a small storm of electric lightning grounding itself harmlessly against their plating.

Thundercracker couldn’t resist after that. He growled and thrust up twice in quick succession, holding on tight to Silverbolt’s frame as he overloaded. Secure in their arms Silverbolt overloaded again, a smaller, secondary charge wave washing over him. His calipers tightened erratically.

Then he went slack.

Thundercracker caught Starscream’s optics, and together they gently lowered him sideways down to the ground. Their spikes slipped free, softening now that all five Aerialbots seemed to have been sated.

“I’m going to go get some fuel,” Skywarp said. He winked at them. “You two don’t look like you should move just yet.”

Thundercracker nodded emphatically. He’d rather stay still for a few more minutes, give his frame time to catch up. Let the coding switch to the more passive guarding phase.

“Bring some cloths too?” Starscream asked. He slurred his words – clearly he was as exhausted as Thundercracker was. “We should clean them up a bit.”

“I’ll see what I can find.” A faint vop heralded Skywarp teleporting away.

Thundercracker lay still for a few minutes, letting his vents even out and his fans cool him down a bit. Then he reluctantly pulled himself up and began arranging Silverbolt into a more comfortable position.

Starscream sat up, looking down at the offline Autobot with a frown on his face. “Do you think they’ll regret this when they wake up?”

Thundercracker shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. Silverbolt said he wanted us to do it, but…”

“… but he was deep in the heat coding and it didn’t really mean anything,” Starscream finished for him with a sigh. “I know.”

“We’ll do what we can for them,” Thundercracker promised. “We’ll fuel them. Clean them up. Either get them back to their base or get someone to come for them somehow.” He caressed Silverbolt’s cheek, ran his thumb over the slack mouth. “At least they shouldn’t kindle. Not in a first heat.”

“At least there’s that,” Starscream agreed.

Skywarp _vopped_ back, arms full of cubes and cloths, and they began cleaning the Aerialbots up as best they could. It was all superficial – all five panels had closed up when the heat settled, and Thundercracker couldn’t make himself manually open them again. Starscream had glanced once at Skydive’s panel before running a cloth over it and down his legs.

“We’re not violating them,” he said softly.

“No,” Skywarp agreed, carefully pulling a tuft of grass from Air Raid’s wing flap. “No, we’re not.”

Beneath Thundercracker’s hands, Fireflight twitched. His optics brightened slowly.

“Hey,” Thundercracker whispered. “You’re safe, baby jet. Let’s get some fuel into you, and you can recharge some more, okay?”

“Mhm,” Fireflight sighed, opening his mouth obligingly and snuggling against Thundercracker. Thundercracker took care to keep the flow slow, so he didn’t choke the younger mech – he wasn’t quite out of recharge, and Thundercracker’s arm was all that was keeping him upright. As soon as the cube was empty, those blue optics dimmed completely again, and Thundercracker settled a recharging Fireflight back against the ground.

Starscream sighed. “We’re going to have to call the Autobots to come get them.” He wiped a trickle of energon away from the corner of Slingshot’s mouth. The mech didn’t even twitch. “They’re not going to online anytime soon, and I’d rather not have them stay out here all night.”

“The Autobots won’t be happy with us,” Thundercracker replied. He took care to keep his tone soft, even though the Aerials were recharging so deeply now that they’d fueled that not even his sonic boom would wake them.

“Duh,” Skywarp said. Starscream winced at the human term. “Of course they won’t. They’ll shoot us on sight.”

Thundercracker frowned. “We can ask for a ceasefire?”

“Yeah,” Skywarp snorted, “that will last until they see the state of ‘poor, defenseless’ Fireflight’s plating, there. Can’t hide from those transfers, TC. Then they’ll begin shooting at us anyway.”

Starscream chewed on his lip. It made him look young, more innocent for once, and completely adorable. “I can… I can comm Skyfire.”

Thundercracker stared. “You still have his frequency?”

Starscream didn’t meet his optics. Thundercracker figured that was answer enough.

“Will he shoot at us?” Skywarp asked. “Because I’m not keen on being in range of those guns if I can avoid it.”

“I don’t know. I don’t… think so. Anyway, he’s probably the only one among them who has any experience with heat from before. He’ll know what it means.”

Thundercracker sighed. “Comm him. I’ll rather take my chances with him than an enraged Prime.”

 

The wait wasn’t that long, though the sky darkened over them as they waited. Thundercracker spent the time trying to get the blue transfers off Fireflight’s white plating, but it was hard going without better solvent. At least they’d gotten the lubricants and transfluid off.

The deep rumble of shuttle engines heralded Skyfire’s arrival, and Thundercracker moved in front of Skydive and Fireflight to shield them from the landing shuttle. Thankfully the clearing was big enough for Skyfire to land – carrying five deeply recharging Aerialbots any distance right now would have been beyond them.

As soon as the shuttle was still, the hatches opened. And four mecha walked out into the dark.

“Thought you told him not to tell anyone,” Skywarp whispered.

“I did,” Starscream hissed back. “This wasn’t part of the plan. Just – look non-threatening, or something.”

Thundercracker almost snorted. They looked threatening just by standing between the Aerialbots and whoever had just disembarked from Skyfire’s hold.

“Starscream?” a voice said, and the largest of the four figures walked forward. As he came closer, Thundercracker finally recognized him as the Protectobot leader. “You said you had the Aerialbots.”

“We do.” Starscream’s voice was calmer than Thundercracker thought he could have managed himself. The Protectobots were usually non-combatants, more often shielding the humans than fighting, but the seekers were still outnumbered. “They’re here. They’re alright, just in recharge.”

A smaller figure pushed past Hot Spot and came up to them fearlessly. “Skyfire said they’d been in heat,” the little medic said. “I’m just going to check them over, okay? So I know if they’ll need to be taken to see Ratchet or if we can just sneak them into their quarters.”

Thundercracker felt a heady sense of relief. It looked like this might go okay after all.

“They’re fine,” Starscream said, stepping aside. “Slingshot hit the ground a bit too hard, so he’s scraped up his side some, but it’s not serious. The rest of them are uninjured.”

Hot Spot nodded. “Thanks for asking us to come get them. Prowl began asking why they weren’t back yet.”

“What did you tell him?” Skywarp asked, sounding curious. “Didn’t think he was the type to just lose track of mecha.”

The smaller carformer came forward to stand at Hot Spot’s side. “That Fireflight flew off course and got himself lost, and they were working on finding their way back.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “It happens.”

Thundercracker looked down at the recharging Fireflight. “Oh, I’ll willingly believe that.”

They were silent for a few moments, watching as First Aid checked over one Aerialbot after the other.

“You have to know, this was all consensual,” Starscream said finally, tone quiet. “We didn’t molest them. We just wanted to keep them safe. We asked what they wanted.”

“I know you didn’t harm them,” Skyfire said, the first thing he’d said since he landed. “They’re fliers. You don’t hurt your own, Star. You never have.”

Starscream gaped. Apparently understanding from Skyfire was the last thing he’d expected. Thundercracker could understand that, considering their rocky recent history.

“Well, they’re all fine,” First Aid said, straightening. “A bit lower on fuel than I’d like, but not as low as they would have been if you hadn’t fueled them. So thanks for that.” He stepped over to Thundercracker, deftly popping open his medical port cover and connecting in one smooth motion.

“Hey,” Thundercracker protested. “Ask first, maybe?”

“Oh, shush.” First Aid seemed to grin up at him, even from behind the mask and visor. “Right now, you’re my patients as well. And I’m not letting you go until I know you can get back to the Decepticon base without crashing into a mountain somewhere.” He tsk’ed at whatever he found in Thundercracker’s systems. “You fueled them, but you didn’t fuel yourselves, did you? And you’ve got some mineral deficiencies as well. Good thing I expected something like that.”

The scout stepped forward. Thundercracker could see the faint shine of energon cubes as he pulled them from his subspace. “Here. We don’t have much, but it should get you home safe.”

“Thank you,” Starscream replied. He sounded calm and grateful, but Thundercracker could see the tell-tale signs of surprise even in the dark. “It’s appreciated.”

“It’s the least we can do,” First Aid said firmly, disconnecting from Thundercracker and quickly seizing Skywarp by the arm. “Hot Spot, would you start bringing the Aerialbots on board?”

Part of Thundercracker, the last, residual piece of heat response coding, protested that the Aerialbots were being taken away from him. He forcefully shut down the prompt to online his weaponry. Instead, he bent down to scoop up Fireflight. “I’ll help.”

The Aerialbots weren’t his to take care of. Not anymore.

That didn’t stop him from nuzzling Fireflight’s cheek when he thought no one was watching.

Starscream apparently had the same problem. He reached for Silverbolt’s hand as Hot Spot carried the large flier past them. Thundercracker was suddenly happy that Skyfire had brought the young gestalt with him – well, all but the hot-headed helo, anyway. None of the seekers would have been able to lift Silverbolt so easily. Or make sure he was healthy before bringing him home.

“Will you let us know if they’re okay?” Starscream said softly, fingers trailing over Silverbolt’s. “When they wake up?”

“Yes,” First Aid replied instantly. “We’ll send word.” He took Starscream’s hand and guided it away from Silverbolt, sliding his cover aside and connecting to the medical port. Thundercracker followed as Hot Spot carry the flier into Skyfire’s hold. Skywarp walked behind them, carrying Air Raid.

Skyfire’s hold was configured for injured mecha, and Thundercracker secured Fireflight to one of the flat slabs. He couldn’t resist one final caress to the white helm.

Outside, First Aid had picked up Skydive, and Starscream was just standing up with Slingshot in his arms. Thundercracker and Skywarp both stepped aside to let them pass.

Hot Spot stopped in front of them. “Thanks for taking care of them. For being good to them. You didn’t have to.”

Thundercracker shrugged. “They’re fliers. Star feels responsible for them. Besides… We couldn’t let them be hurt.”

“First heats can be harsh,” Skywarp added, optics following Skydive as First Aid walked past them. “I just hope they’re not angry with us when they wake up.”

Hot Spot nodded. “We’ll have to see. We’ll be in touch, okay?” He turned slightly, waving Groove and Streetwise into the shuttle. “Have a nice flight home.”

Starscream left the shuttle with an armful of energon cubes and came to stand in front of them. Leaning against them, even, and Thundercracker eagerly took the comfort as it was offered, stepping close into Starscream’s warmth and resting a hand on his wing. Skywarp pressed against both of them until they were one big huddle.

In front of them, Skyfire took off.

Thundercracker watched until the shuttle’s engine lights were out of sight. It didn’t take long.

Starscream sighed and turned, pushing an energon cube into each of their hands. “Fuel up. We still have to get home. Megatron isn’t too happy with us as it is.”

Thundercracker gulped down the contents of one cube and subspaced the other. He activated his antigravs, waiting until Skywarp and Starscream joined him before transforming and falling in on Starscream’s right.

It felt like he was flying away from part of himself.

It was probably just the residual heat response coding, though. It would fade soon enough. And if it didn’t, well, he’d just have to ‘face Starscream through the berth for a couple of days and let Skywarp do the same to him. Maybe there’d be some double-tagging, too. No point in worrying about what he couldn’t have. Not when there was a war on.

The flight back had never seemed so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last of the prompts I got this time around! So it's the end of the summer heat prompt fics of 2019. But I'm not marking this as complete. I had a ton of fun writing these and I want to take more prompts on a later occasion ^^


	12. Aerials/Elite trine: part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After assisting the Aerialbots through their first heat, Thundercracker had feared the younger fliers would hate them.  
> Nothing could have been more wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thundercracker demanded a follow-up to their heat/rut. Enjoy ^^

Getting forced to the ground by a low-flying Concorde was not something Thundercracker had experienced before. He didn’t think it was something anyone had experienced before.

Well, ‘forced’ was probably a strong word. Gently coerced to lower altitude until he landed was more accurate.

He waited until Silverbolt had landed before transforming. For some reason, even seeing the Aerialbot up close, none of his defensive subroutines activated.

“Hi,” he said, noticing how tentative his voice sounded.

“Hi.” Silverbolt offered him a small smile. “Do you have a few minutes? To talk?”

Thundercracker nodded. “It’s a slow patrol.”

Silverbolt nodded. “Good.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He bit down on that plush lower lip, optics determinedly not meeting Thundercracker’s. Then he vented heavily and straightened, using what Skywarp liked to call the Boss Pose.

“I came to thank you. For helping us through the heat.”

“You’re not mad?” Part of Thundercracker had been sure they would be. It had been their first heat, after all, and they’d ended up fragging Decepticons. He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if Silverbolt had shot him on sight.

That smile curved Silverbolt’s lips again. “Not at all. We’re grateful. It could have been…” He paused, clearly searching for words. “It could have been bad. First Aid said the Autobots didn’t even know we’d gone into heat. We could have been seriously injured.”

Thundercracker didn’t quite know what to say. He hadn’t expected gratitude.

Silverbolt reached into subspace, and Thundercracker stiffened on reflex. “Easy.” Silverbolt held still for a moment. “We were hoping you would bring something back from us to share with Skywarp and Starscream.” Slowly, he pulled out a box and placed it on the ground.

Thundercracker stared in mute surprise as cube after cube of energon was pulled out and placed in the box. And Silverbolt didn’t stop. There were packets of additives. A few boxes of something that looked like gelled energon goodies. Lastly, three smaller cubes of something that looked like genuine high-grade.

“What’s all this?” Thundercracker asked dumbly.

Silverbolt smiled. “I’m a squad leader. I get to read the reports.” He held out the cubes of high-grade. “You haven’t gotten away with much fuel lately.”

“You don’t have to fuel us,” Thundercracker said, though it hurt him to imagine all that fuel being taken away again. That was enough to fuel them for a week, even discarding the probably low nutritional value of the goodies.

Silverbolt shrugged, a small smile on his pretty lips. “You didn’t have to help us. Take them. We won’t let you starve if we can help it. Oh, and First Aid says to keep taking those supplements even if you feel much better.”

Thundercracker was defeated. Primus grant he never had to truly fight these younglings. He nodded, watching as Silverbolt secured the last cubes in the box.

Silverbolt looked him over. “So how are you doing? Really?”

He huffed a tense laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You were the one in heat.”

“I was well taken care of.” Silverbolt stepped closer, almost hesitantly. “It’s all a bit fuzzy, but I remember that much. You were the ones who had to go back to a megalomaniac in a submerged base.” He lifted a hand, slowly, telegraphing every movement, and once again Thundercracker could do nothing but stand still and stare dumbly. Even with that, the hand touching his cheek was a surprise.

“We want to see you safe,” Silverbolt murmured, optics dimming. “We want you to not have to survive on scraps. To actually be able to fly in the sunlight without fear of repercussions. We also talked it over.” Silverbolt’s thumb stroked over Thundercracker’s lower lip. “And we want to repeat the experience. Without the heat coding in play.”

Thundercracker could have sworn the heat coding _was_ still in play. Why else would he lean into the touch? Want nothing more than to sag against Silverbolt and let those strong arms surround him?

For that matter, why else would Silverbolt be doing this to him?

“What do you say?” Silverbolt whispered.

Thundercracker dimmed his optics and let Silverbolt’s thumb slip into his mouth.

 

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened. But suddenly he found himself on his back in the soft, springy moss, with a determined Aerialbot leaning down over him. Silverbolt’s optics were dark, smoldering, and Thundercracker couldn’t stop the moan as he bent down and planted soft kisses and nibbles along Thundercracker’s jaw.

“We never got to explore much last time,” Silverbolt murmured. “Everything was heat-focused, and I honestly don’t think we would have tolerated any extended foreplay. But I want to get to know your frame. I want to know what makes you tick,” he sucked gently on Thundercracker’s neck cables, “what makes you moan for me,” probing fingers teased over Thundercracker’s leading wing edge, “what makes you arch and scream my name.”

Primus, where had this come from? Silverbolt was so slagging hot Thundercracker could barely vent.

He trembled as Silverbolt mouthed his way down Thundercracker’s chest. The edges of his cockpit were thoroughly examined, as were his pectoral vents. Silverbolt seemed determined, and it was all Thundercracker could do to keep his panel from springing open.

He tried to reciprocate, to put his hands on Silverbolt’s tempting chest, but his wrists were caught in Silverbolt’s hands and pushed gently back down. “Lie still,” Silverbolt commanded, and it didn’t occur to Thundercracker to disobey. He surrendered to Silverbolt’s touch, arms held securely by his side.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Silverbolt purred against his abdomen. “I love your colors. Your strength and steadiness. Your care. You’re beautiful inside and out, did you know that, Thundercracker?” He licked over the top edge of Thundercracker’s panel, and it sprang open fast enough that Thundercracker would probably have been embarrassed if he’d been thinking clearly. “I’m so glad it was your trine who took care of us when we were in heat.”

Plump lips kissed their way down his spike, and Thundercracker was done for. He forgot to mind his volume, and that he was supposed to be on patrol, and that this was technically an Autobot straddling him. Thundercracker groaned as Silverbolt lowered his head over his spike, swallowing him.

“You’re – insanely good at that,” he panted, fighting not to thrust into the welcoming mouth.

Silverbolt pulled off with a wet pop and smiled. “Thank you. I had practice.” He bent down again, licking a broad stripe from the head of Thundercracker’s spike to the root and down to his anterior node. One suck had Thundercracker arching straight off the ground and keening.

“There’s my pretty seeker,” Silverbolt murmured, and the hum of his voice against Thundercracker’s array was enough to drive his charge up even higher. He _ached_.

“Please,” he begged, and he didn’t know what he was pleading for, only that he needed _something_. “Please, can you – I need –“

“Shh,” Silverbolt crooned. He slotted himself between Thundercracker’s legs, face suddenly right in front of Thundercracker’s. “Shh, pretty. I’ve got you.”

Finally, perfectly, Silverbolt pushed forward, and Thundercracker could feel every inch of the slow glide spreading his valve. He keened, pulling against Silverbolt’s hold, but his lover didn’t let go. So Thundercracker wrapped his legs around Silverbolt’s hips, pulling him in to the hilt.

“Impatient,” Silverbolt chided, nipping Thundercracker’s lower lip a little harder than necessary.

“Tease,” Thundercracker countered, admittedly breathlessly. He knew he’d never be able to pull Silverbolt in like that if the Aerial didn’t let him.

As if to prove that point, Silverbolt chuckled. “Maybe you deserve to be teased a little.” But he took mercy on Thundercracker and began moving. Which was great, because Thundercracker felt like he might implode any moment.

“Primus, you feel good.” Silverbolt was almost groaning now. “I loved your spike, but I may love your valve more. So tight and hot around me, it’s almost too much.”

Thundercracker would have protested that it wasn’t too much, would have begged for more even, but he couldn’t find his voice any more than he could find the will to stop. Silverbolt was big, almost enough to push Thundercracker’s calipers to their limits, and every stroke of his spike was perfectly glorious. Thundercracker wouldn’t mind being stuck in this moment forever.

Silverbolt seemed to have other plans. He bit down on Thundercracker’s neck, shooting delicious pain/pleasure through his systems, and then he finally let Thundercracker’s arms go. Instead he took hold of his hips, lifting slightly, and the next thrust hit something deep inside Thundercracker that he’d swear even his trinemates had never found.

“That’s it, pretty, sing for me,” Silverbolt groaned, pace increasing. His hands were tight enough on Thundercracker’s hips to leave dents, not that Thundercracker cared. He keened, calipers rippling wildly as that spot was hit again and again, and when Silverbolt overloaded he threw Thundercracker over the edge and into freefall.

 

It felt like much later when he finally came back to himself. He was stiff and sore, but somehow warm and comfortable as well, which made no sense.

“With me yet?” someone asked. The voice was kind and melodious and somehow intimately familiar, and Thundercracker finally found the command to online his optics.

Silverbolt smiled down at him. Somehow he was wrapped up in Aerialbot – Silverbolt was on top of him, legs intertwined with his, head resting on one elbow next to Thundercracker’s head.

“There you are.” Silverbolt nuzzled his cheek. “Was beginning to wonder if I’d knocked you fully into a hard reboot.”

That was alarming. “How long was I out?” His voice was still staticky, too. Embarrassing.

“Not long. Fifteen minutes or so.” Silverbolt smiled. “I would have commed First Aid if you hadn’t woken in another five.”

Fifteen minutes was still longer than any single mech had managed to knock him out for before. And combined with the time the actual fragging had taken, he was beginning to run late.

“I need to go.” He pushed halfsparkedly at Silverbolt’s arm. “I’m supposed to be checking in after my patrol.”

“Can’t have you late for that.” Silverbolt nuzzled him again. “It’s bad enough Megatron slags up Star at every occasion. I don’t want to give him an excuse to abuse you as well.” Earnest blue optics met Thundercracker’s. “Will you talk to them? About meeting up again?”

“Yes.” The agreement slipped out before Thundercracker was even aware of it. It wasn’t a conscious decision. But he immediately realized it was the right one. “I will.”

“Good.” And Silverbolt kissed him.

It was sweet, and caring, and gentle, and all the things he never had expected, and Thundercracker knew he was addicted. He would try his absolute hardest for Silverbolt.

“I really do have to go,” he mumbled, still chasing those lips. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”

“You do.” Silverbolt moved back and stood, easily pulling Thundercracker to his feet. “We’ll see each other. Don’t fire on us.” He winked, and Thundercracker was fairly sure it was a joke, but the very idea made him shudder.

“We won’t. We’ll fire just behind you.” He wanted to lean in so Silverbolt could kiss him again, but if he did, he knew he would never leave. And now he really was running late.

Silverbolt picked up the box of supplies and passed it over for Thundercracker to put in his subspace. A short-frequency comm pinged him from an unknown sender.

“That’s me.” Silverbolt stepped close, well into Thundercracker’s personal space. Thundercracker didn’t mind. “We can’t exactly stay in touch, not with Soundwave monitoring everything over on your end. But share it with Sky and Star. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I will.” Thundercracker sighed. “I really do have to leave.”

Silverbolt smiled. “I’ll make it easier for you.” He pressed a kiss to Thundercracker’s cheek. “Bye, Thunder. Be seeing you.” He lifted off, transformed, and then he was gone.

Thundercracker was left staring at Silverbolt’s contrails, fading into the distance. Then he sighed and lifted off as well.

There was nothing else to do but go back to base. Besides, he really did need to talk to Skywarp and Starscream.


End file.
